


A Place Where We Can Feel Good

by writworm42



Series: Ease My Mind [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: 24/7 arrangement, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, Edging, F/F, Face Slapping, Flogging, Human Furniture, Internalized Transphobia, Lesbian AU, Orgasm Milking, Orgasm Torture, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Service Submission, Slow Burn, Smut, Social Anxiety, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation, kicking, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: Continuation of the dominatrix Vanessa verse, as requested by someone on AQ (I don't remember who, I'm so sorry!): Brooke has a conference that's incredibly stressful, so she hires Vanessa to come with her.





	1. Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so thrilled that the first fic had such a great response, when people asked for more I just had to make it into a series!
> 
> What Brooke and Vanessa do in this fic is essentially a 24/7. I have been involved in kink for 5+ years now and I would never do a 24/7 cause I don't consider myself experienced enough. They are dynamics that are serious and should be carefully considered, negotiated, etc to enter/navigate. 24/7s are not for beginners, they are not for people to do with new partners, they are not like they are in fics. I cannot comment on how to do them entirely safely or how to do them with professional dominatrixes (if people even do) because I have only looked into them enough to know the basics. Please, please heavily research and consider and talk about any kink that you do. If you are looking for inspiration for a 24/7, this is the wrong place to look.
> 
> Title taken from Feel Good Inc. by the Gorillaz (tho ngl the Mood[TM] for this fic was inspired by the Celia Pavey cover). Thank you thank you thank you to everyone encouraging me, and thank you to Holtzmanns for beta-ing and being a wonderful cheerleader <3

Brooke taps the steering wheel with erratic fingers, trying her best not to let her nerves get the best of her. Glancing down at her phone, she feels her breath catch in her throat and her heart stop dead in its tracks. Her flight is in less three hours, and she’s still a good half hour away from the airport.

 _Fuck_.

She’s going to miss this flight, she just knows it. Brooke will miss it, and then Yvie will be representing the company alone at the conference’s opening night mixer, and she’ll have to stumble into the networking breakfast next morning with everyone whispering around her, wondering why she’d missed the keynote. Why Brooke Lynn Hytes, head of a Fortune 500 company, queen of answering emails at 3 AM and never producing anything less than perfection, is so late for such an important industry event.

What if they all thought that she was losing her touch? What if the investors decided that she wasn’t fit any more? What if in her absence, Yvie got the idea that now was her chance to overthrow Brooke, take control of the company, and change all of their stock to high-waisted neon leotards?

_God, I never should have trusted that bitch, I knew I should have left with her instead of doing this, I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea--_

Then she catches sight of Vanessa walking out of the house and towards the car, and all of her anxiety dissipates.

Even in sweatpants and beat-up sneakers, Vanessa’s presence is absolutely commanding, her walk so sure of itself and gaze so unwavering that Brooke can focus on nothing else.

“Have you forgotten your manners, bitch?” Vanessa’s voice cuts Brooke out of her daze, and she realizes with a start that her mistress is standing at the side of the car, arms crossed and face stern, waiting for Brooke to open the door for her.

“Sorry, mistress!” Brooke scrambles out of the car and practically runs to the other side, swinging the door open for Vanessa. The effort is met with a slap across the face.

“I trained you better than to forget your fucking place.” Vanessa’s voice drips with disgust and contempt as she slides into the car. “Now close my door and get in.”

_The consultation room is exactly what you’d expect from a home office. Natural lighting from a shuttered window illuminates sparklingly clean white walls, and the room is decorated sparingly with a few houseplants in the corner and a fertility goddess statue standing on a filing cabinet in the corner for good measure._

_Vanessa sits at the desk in the corner of the room, dragging out a large notebook with Brooke’s initials on it. She has one for every regular client of hers, plus one for the one-times and occasionals. It’s not standard practice, Brooke knows, but it’s how Vanessa works, how she keeps track of likes and limits, accounts paid and outstanding, all of the past sessions and what they’ve tried and yet to explore. It’s comforting, for Brooke, knowing that every time she comes in, she has someone paying attention, keeping track of everything she needs to know about her._

_“So what’s this proposition you wanted to talk to me about, Mary?” Vanessa cocks an eyebrow, pen hovering above a blank page, waiting for Brooke’s answer._

_“Well, I have a conference coming up in a couple of weeks…”_

The ride to the airport is uneventful. Vanessa turns the radio on and tunes it to top 40, then kicks back her seat and ignores Brooke for the rest of the ride. Brooke doesn’t mind; when she’s driving, she’s focused, and nothing can break her out of the zone.

Besides, this is part of the game; Vanessa has no reason to stoop to speak to Brooke, which means that Brooke has no permission to speak to her.

Somehow, it’s an extra comfort to already be put in her place.

They get to the airport in record time, and Brooke is about to get out of the car to pop Vanessa’s door open when she’s stopped by a firm hand on her wrist.

“Look at me, whore.” The direction is more for posterity’s sake than anything else; Vanessa already has Brooke’s full attention, and her smirk says that she knows it. “When we get into the building, the first thing I want you to do is park our shit in line, then go to the bathroom. You’re gonna edge yourself and come back to me. If you come, I’ll know, and you’re _really_ not gonna like what I have planned to punish you with. You understand?”

Brooke swallows hard, nodding. “Yes, mistress.”

“Good girl. Now, tell me your safewords.”

“‘I’m good’ is green, ‘mercy’ is yellow, and ‘I need to freshen up’ is red.” the safewords, more convoluted than her usual ones, feel foreign on Brooke’s tongue, but they’re part of the agreement--a traffic light system would seem odd in a public setting, and Brooke isn’t interested in blowing her cover even for the thrill of it.

Vanessa’s face melts into an approving smile, and Brooke has to clench her thighs together to stop herself from starting to leak a little. Of course Vanessa notices, she always notices, but this time she says nothing. She only leans back and cocks an eyebrow, signalling for Brooke to get going. And so she does without hesitation, letting Vanessa out of the car and unpacking all of their bags, struggling to drag them all towards the airport while Vanessa bounds towards the building without so much as looking back.

_“You get that that’s a huge thing to ask from me, right? I got business here, Brooke, business you’re gonna be takin’ me away from.”_

_Brooke nods, unfazed. She was expecting Vanessa to be skeptical. But if there’s one thing the business world has taught her, it’s how to bring someone around to a deal._

_“I respect that, so I’m ready to make an offer that will more than make up for the loss of income.” Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s suddenly formal tone, but Brooke ignores her; right now, they’re on equal footing, which means the control is Brooke’s for the taking, and by God, she’s going to take it. “I’ll pay you double your hourly rate, including off-time when we’re sleeping. I’ll also pay room, board, and air-fare. I’ll book two singles instead of a double bed, and if you or I red out, then I’ll pay for a separate room and ticket for the remainder of the trip so that you don’t have to associate with me, but you still get a nice vacation out of it.”_

_Brooke has Vanessa right where she wants her - she can see it in the brunette’s face. But then another detail comes up, one that Brooke didn’t necessarily anticipate._

_“How do I know you ain’t gonna go back on your word? How do I know this ain’t a trap?” Vanessa stares right into Brooke’s eyes, challenging her to try to dismiss the concerns. Brooke doesn’t, so she keeps going, “Don’t matter how long we been working together, Brooke. I’ve been in this game long enough and seen enough girls get caught up in the wrong shit to know that when creeps come lookin’ for girls like us, they play the long game.”_

_Brooke didn’t have an answer for her; it wasn’t something she had considered. It was one of those moments that broke the illusion, even more than seeing Vanessa in her casual clothes, calling Brooke by her name instead of the myriad of humiliating words she normally used. But Brooke wasn’t delusional, and she wasn’t a creep; she knew that this was a concern she needed to take seriously._

_“Pick a bouncer or a chaperone. Someone you trust. I’ll pay the same deal for them to come, too.”_

It takes every ounce of control Brooke has not to finish herself off, and when she comes back from the bathroom, she’s dripping. Vanessa grins, but otherwise, doesn’t praise her, and that’s when Brooke knows she isn’t done. They go through security in near silence, Vanessa only ever acknowledging her to give her a command ( _move my shit, put that in a tray, take my sweater_ ) and the occasional word of praise. By the time they finally sit down at the gate, Vanessa in a chair and Brooke on the floor beside her, Brooke is buzzing with anticipation, her clit throbbing and thighs slick with her own arousal. Vanessa is still ignoring her, except for an occasional, ‘accidental,’ light kick against her back, just to jerk Brooke out of her daydreams, just to remind her that she’s watching. But it’s when the flight attendants come out and start sifting through their papers, getting ready to call people up to board, that things really kick into action.

“I think you should go to the bathroom before you leave.” Vanessa leans down and whispers in Brooke’s ear, running a slow, teasing hand up her spine and making her shiver. Brooke gets the hint immediately.

She’s never gotten to the edge so fast, and it’s never been so painful to tear her hand away.

_Brooke reads every word of the contract over carefully; Vanessa and A’Keria do the same. All three of them sign after a few more negotiations back and forth, and just like that, the game’s afoot._


	2. Up in the air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa and Brooke set off on their flight to the conference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to Holtzmanns for beta-ing ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Mild TW for description of anxiety re: flights and for a description of medication and psychiatric care

“Yeah, we’re gonna take off now. Yeah, I’m fine. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, so we’ll see you at the airport and you’ll pick us up? Got it. Yeah. Seven hours, plus luggage pickup, so maybe seven and a half? Plus I gotta make sure this bitch knows not to make trouble once we get there, you know how it is with worms like her. Nah, she’ll only take about five minutes. Okay. See you in seven and a half. Bye.”

Brooke listens to Vanessa’s call on all fours, a pillow under her knees and Vanessa’s feet on her back. In a few minutes, the flight attendant will knock on their suite door and list off safety precautions, tell them to buckle in and wait for their ascent. In a few minutes, Brooke will be strapped in, captive, next to Vanessa, at her mercy within arm’s reach until the seatbelt light blinks off.  

The thought is so tantalizing, she almost falls out of her position.

“Stop squirming, bitch.” Vanessa very deliberately shifts her position, switching one foot on top of the other, dropping her heels back down on Brooke’s back a little harder than she needs to. The impact sends a shudder through Brooke’s body.

“Sorry, mistress.” 

_ Brooke would love to be one of those millionaires who never forgets where they came from. She would love to be one of the moguls who flies economy, trading luxury for humility, swapping decent comfort for excellent press.  _

_ Unfortunately, she’s never been good with rocketing through the air in a pressurized tin can propelled by a few vulnerable engines and no phalange, and even with the help of a few Xanax, the thought of feeling like she’s about to die while squeezed in-between two foul-smelling, loud-chewing strangers is even less appealing.  _

_ “I’ve booked us a first-class private cabin,” she tells Vanessa, “And one for A’Keria as well, but as per your request, it’s on the flight ahead of ours, so there can’t be any, um, ‘two-for-one SVU-ass bullshit,’ as you put it.” she adds the quote with a smile, and Vanessa can’t help but crack one herself as she grabs the tickets from Brooke’s hand.  _

_ “I’ve also rented a car and paid for a phone plan for the both of you so that you two can check in and communicate once we land, and she can drive and pick us up as necessary.” Brooke enjoys watching Vanessa’s eyes widen as she adds the last part, something they didn’t discuss but is nonetheless something she knew both the other women would appreciate.  _

_ Besides, it’s nice to be the one surprising for Vanessa, for a change.  _

They hear the scuff of the flight attendant’s footsteps before the knock. Vanessa’s hand is instantly in Brooke’s hair, jerking her upwards, throwing her into her seat. Brooke is about to do her seatbelt when Vanessa stops her with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait.” she commands, and Brooke obeys, watching as Vanessa drags a blanket out from its storage-place beside their seats and throws it over Brooke’s lap. Brooke hisses as Vanessa slips her hand underneath the cover, deftly clicking Brooke’s belt into place as she calls for the flight attendant to come in.

The attendant greets them cheerfully, and that’s when Brooke feels it.

Vanessa’s hand, hidden by the blanket, slipping under her skirt and pushing her thighs open just a little. She cups Brooke’s cunt, slips a single finger between the blonde’s lips as she massages the whole area up and down, working the flesh of Brooke’s vulva slowly and thoroughly, chatting with the flight attendant all the while. Brooke parts her legs a little further, and Vanessa smiles.

“Is… Is she okay?” the attendant notices Brooke shifting in her seat and flashes her a look of concern, but Vanessa waves him off with a smile.

“She just gets nervous flying, that’s all,” Vanessa laughs, doubling down on the pace of her hidden ministrations, “Don’t you, honey?”

_ Jesus fucking Christ.  _ Brooke coughs, then nods. She’s so close to the edge already that it’s hard to breathe, and even though the flight attendant continues to talk, fills them in on every safety procedure, he might as well be talking underwater for all Brooke hears. There’s nothing she can see, nothing she can hear or feel or think about, except for Vanessa--Vanessa’s hand on her cunt, Vanessa’s fake laughter at the attendant’s joke layered over real laughter at Brooke’s predicament, Vanessa’s sharp, sweet perfume filling her senses more with every toss of her hair, every flick of her wrist underneath Brooke’s blanket.

Finally, the attendant leaves, and the ascent light switches on, and Brooke can’t hold it any more.

“Oh, God… Please, mistress… Please…” she begs, but Vanessa, ever the cruel mistress, only smiles and slips her fingers all the way between Brooke’s folds, honing the tips of two fingers onto her clit and rubbing fast, merciless circles that knock the rest of Brooke’s request right out of her lungs.

“Please what?” Vanessa leans forward and mutters in Brooke’s ear, her rasping breath hot against the skin of Brooke’s neck, sending an almost painful shock of need through her body. “Use your words, baby. Come on.”

“Please… Oh, fuck… Please, mistress, please let me come, let me come let me come please please oh God oh God oh God--”

“Alright, baby, come for me.”

Brooke comes harder than she’s ever come before, Vanessa’s satisfied laughter taunting her all the while.

_ “Aww, what, are you sensitive?” Vanessa coos in Brooke’s ear, her voice both doting and mocking at the same time. “Did you come too many times, sweetheart? Now it hurts?”  _

_ Brooke nods, squirming desperately against the heat rising in her body. Vanessa has her pinned to the floor, one hand holding her down by the shoulder and the other in-between her open legs, thumb tracing tight, teasing circles around her clit, two fingers pumping in and out of her entrance. She’s aching, her cunt swollen and spent, the slick sounds of her arousal so loud she can hardly hear her own thoughts. Not that she has any to hear, at the moment--her mind is crystal-clear, attention fully on Vanessa. _

_ “Aw, you’ve just been a greedy little piggie, haven’t you? All of those orgasms, and you still want more, huh? And you ain’t even thanked me.” Vanessa clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she continues her ministrations. Brooke can’t help but let out the sounds bubbling at the back of her throat.  _

_ “Don’t be whinin’ at me, you little bitch. Show me your manners, come on. Thank me for lettin’ you come so many times your pussy hurts.” _

Before Brooke can even fully thank Vanessa for her orgasm, the shorter woman’s fingers are buried in her cunt, pushing through her entrance without so much as an exploratory tease and beginning their work.  

“Greedy, greedy little piggie.” Vanessa whispers like a cat playing with her prey, each word dripping with a smug sweetness that lets Brooke know there’s no escape. Her breath hitches in her throat, and Vanessa grins devilishly, quickening the pace of her fingers, reaching back with her thumb to rub out sloppy movements against her clit. It’s all over the place, but it doesn’t matter—Brooke is lost in the frenzy, her sensitivity rising, her muscles tensing, and—

And, just as she’s about to beg again, Vanessa leans closer still, gives Brooke’s ear a nip that makes her hips buck hard and elicits an almost inhuman noise from her lips.

“Tell you what,” Vanessa’s breath is hot against Brooke’s skin, and the movements of her thumb have become more refined, more focused, much more cruel. “Since you’ve been such a good girl all day, I’m going to give you a reward. How does that sound, baby?”

“Yes please…. thank you, mistress.” Brooke chokes out between desperate pants. Vanessa smirks.

“Alright, baby, I’m gonna let you come as many times as you want, no asking. But,” she warns, suddenly taking on an air of seriousness, “I’m not gonna stop. In fact, I’m gonna watch a movie with my hand in your cunt, and I’m just gonna tease you and play with you and show you that pussy’s mine. How does that sound?”

“Thank you, mis—“ Brooke doesn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before she comes again, screaming God’s name as if to thank Him for the opportunity.

But God’s not in the cabin, only Vanessa, who laughs while Brooke thanks her, wiggles her fingers inside her a little bit, and casually flicks through the on-flight entertainment menu.

Brooke is pretty sure Vanessa’s never heard of  _ Ben Hur.  _ She’s pretty sure Vanessa has no interest in the plot, either.

But then she notices the timestamp—212 minutes—and the choice makes an almost comical amount of sense.

She lasts just shy of 120 before crying mercy, her cunt worked swollen and dry, and Vanessa switches the movie to a Jennifer Lopez rom com, reclines Brooke’s seat all the way down for her, and commands her to sleep it off.

_ “I liked that a lot, can we work that in next week?” Brooke holds tight onto Vanessa’s shoulder as the small woman helps her waddle out to the front, the area between her legs already becoming sore from how Vanessa’s just worked it over. She’s sated and calm now, and would love nothing more than to get out to her car so she drive away from the block, pull over, and take a nap.  _

_ “Sure thing.” Vanessa nods, coming out of her dominatrix self and back to business Vanessa now that the session is over. “By the way, do you want us to start the scene the minute you pick me up, or do you want to wait until we get to the conference?” _

_ Brooke doesn’t even need to think about it. “Right when I pick you up. I’m not big on planes, either.” _

_ Vanessa laughs a little to herself, but nods. They reach the front of the house, and Vanessa lets go of Brooke, giving her space to put on her shoes.  _

_ “See you next week?” she asks, a sudden sense of unsureness catching her by surprise even as she asks the question. But Vanessa doesn’t seem to notice--she only nods again, smiling a little when Brooke nearly falls over trying to lift her foot off the ground. _

_ “See you then.” _

She wakes up to the sound of the flight attendant bringing in their evening meal. Her blanket had been pulled up over her in her sleep, and she has to resist the urge to burrow back into its warmth, but the flight attendant is already halfway into their cabin.

“Did you have a nice nap?” He sing-songs, wheeling a trolley stacked with food in front of himself. 

As if to prove his point, a yawn forces its way out of Brooke’s mouth. 

“Aww, my little heavy sleeper,” Vanessa coos and runs a gentle hand through Brooke’s hair, and Brooke finds herself melting into the touch, the soft sensation of stroking fingers enough to make her want to sleep again. But there’s no time for that; the attendant is moving their plates and glasses onto the table at the corner of their cabin and bustling out, calling over his shoulder for them to have a lovely meal.

The switch flips almost instantly.

“Alright, piggie,” Vanessa’s fingers knot into a fist, and she throws Brooke down with a force no one but her clients would ever guess she had. “Get down and stay quiet while I eat. You know where you belong.”

_ According to the terms of the contract, while they’re at the conference, Vanessa will essentially own every function of Brooke’s body except for breathing. Which means that Brooke does what Vanessa says, absolutely and unequivocally, unless there’s a safeword attached to it.  _

_ It’s a concept that absolutely thrills Brooke, though she’s a little bit afraid to admit it; a fetish for having to ask someone before you so much as go to the bathroom doesn’t exactly scream HBIC. Then again, neither does a breakdown during a keynote because of the pressure of having to let fear of others’ opinions make those same decisions for her. _

_ The psychiatrist tells her it’s mild-to-moderate social anxiety. She takes the CBT courses, goes to her weekly appointments, dutifully swallows every pill. _

_ One of the main things they all teach her is that it’s okay to ask for extra support when she needs it. _

_ They didn’t say what the support had to be. _

Brooke kneels beside the table while Vanessa eats, then accepts her own plate on the floor. By the time she’s finished struggling her way through chicken Alfredo without a fork, it’s time for the plane to descend. She doesn’t need a command this time; she’s strapped back into her seat, Vanessa’s fingers in her pussy, no permission to come until the wheels hit the ground, the booming sound of a rough landing covered by her own screams.

It’s not until they’re in the baggage area that Brooke realizes that she never took her Xanax.


	3. The Bodyguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke, Vanessa, and A'keria arrive at the conference, and reflect on how they look out for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little light on the smut, folks, but what it lacks in filth, I hope it makes up for in fluff!!
> 
> Thank you 3000 to @formercongressman for beta-ing <3

A’Keria is already waiting for Brooke and Vanessa when they emerge from the terminal, the window of her car rolled down so that they can see her face. It’s funny; Brooke doesn’t think she’s ever seen A’Keria smile, at least not to her, but for a moment, when the woman sees Vanessa walking up ahead of Brooke, an excited grin spreads across her face. She notices Brooke staring almost instantly, though, and the moment’s gone.

“Ain’t you say you was gonna take a minute to sort the bitch out?” A’Keria jerks a chin in Brooke’s general direction, her mouth curling into a sneer as Vanessa comes up to the passenger-side door.

“Thought I had when I spanked her good in the bathroom before we got out.” Vanessa’s head swivels to look at Brooke, her eyes narrow, and Brooke’s heart stops. “Why?”

“She been lookin’ at me like she wants something from me.”

 _Shit._ Vanessa’s face darkens, and Brooke can’t help but chew her lip, knowing what’s coming next.

_Despite her miniscule size, A’Keria is the only person in the house who’s more intimidating than the bouncers as she stands in the doorway of the consultation room, arms crossed and gaze unimpressed._

_“This the one who wants the twenty-four-seven?” She arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t so much as look at Brooke. It makes Brooke feel incredibly small, especially since she knows this isn’t a scene; it’s a consultation, a threatening sort of meet-and-greet meant to show who she’ll be dealing with if she sets one toe out of line._

_And apparently, that person out of domme-space is even more serious than Vanessa in it._

_“Hi, I’m Brooke.” she stands and steps towards A’Keria with an extended hand, but A’Keria doesn’t move._

_“I know.”_

_Brooke falters a little, wondering what to do next, and A’Keria rolls her eyes._

_“Look, sugar, I ain’t here to get to know you, I’m here to go over a contract an’ make sure my sister’s safe.”_

Vanessa’s voice is quiet and pointed when she commands Brooke to get in the backseat, warning her to keep her eyes low and mouth shut. It’s no problem for Brooke, whose heart pounds as A’Keria pulls the car out of the airport. Her mind runs rampant with possible punishments, things that Vanessa might dream up to teach her a lesson for her transgression. Vanessa has never been particularly tolerant--Brooke likes it that way--and the thought of what’s going to come next takes up her entire mental space.

She’s so wrapped up in fantasies that she barely notices when the car finally stops in front of the hotel, her head so busy spinning with possibilities that it doesn’t have time to look around at or focus on anyone else in the busy hotel lobby.

_“You ain’t into sharin’, right? ‘Cause otherwise my rate’s gonna go up.”_

_Brooke blinks. Up until then, the thought of being with more than one domme at a time had never really occurred to her. But now that A’Keria’s said it, now that it’s out in the open, she feels a curiosity burning in more places than just her mind, one she’s not sure she even cares to swallow._

_Nonetheless, she knows a test when she sees one, so she pushes it down and returns A’Keria’s intent gaze with an understanding smile._

_“I’m not opposed to it, but we’ll have to renegotiate as we go. It’s up to Vanessa and you to offer at all, and if I take you up on it, I’ll pay what you ask. I’m hiring you as a bodyguard for Vanessa, so ultimately, she’s your boss.”_

_A’Keria’s face relaxes, and Brooke breathes out internally, knowing she’s passed._

A’Keria retreats to her room next door after Vanessa assures her it’s okay, leaving the two out in the hallway, Brooke fumbling to slide the keycard through the door’s swiper. She can feel Vanessa’s impatience behind her growing as she tries a second, third, fourth time, and just as Vanessa clears her throat, she’s in.

“‘Bout time.” Vanessa huffs as she pushes ahead of Brooke, deliberately stepping on her toes as she enters the room.

As far as hotel rooms go, the one that Vanessa and Brooke find themselves in is pretty standard. Two beds sit about five feet from each other, separated by a night-table with a copy of the Gideon Bible laying on the surface. The walls are papered in a warm, burnt-orange, except for the panes of the room’s closet, which are a crisp, freshly-painted white. The most interesting feature, though, is the plush beige carpeting, soft and springy under Brooke’s feet once she kicks off her shoes.

She’s about to sink down onto it, when she feels Vanessa’s hand close around her wrist.

“Stay standing and face the wall.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Vanessa waits a moment for Brooke to get into position before starting to run her hands up and down her body.

“How we doin’, baby?”

“Green.”

“No. Use the safewords we talked about.” Vanessa removes her hands immediately, the empty space and loss of touch buzzing on Brooke’s skin.

“I’m good.” Brooke’s affirmation is met with more touch, and even though she doesn’t dare look back to see Vanessa’s face, she knows the dominatrix well enough to know that she’s nodding, staring, sizing Brooke up and thinking about what to do next.

“What time’s your mixer at?” Vanessa’s hands come around and ghost over Brooke’s chest, and Brooke feels her heart speed up.

“Eight-thirty, mistress.”

“Just enough time to get ready.” Vanessa purrs, squeezing Brooke’s breasts hard before letting them drop from her hands altogether. She lands a swift, hard spank on Brooke's still-sore ass, laughing at the surprised squeak that escapes Brooke's throat at the impact.

“Come on, let’s get you showered.”

_Brooke tells Yvie what’s going on ahead of time. It’s a practical decision, she tells herself—Yvie has never had much of a filter, and it might spare her the shock of seeing Vanessa or A’Keria at the conference._

_Beyond a simple exchange shared between two sides of the watercooler, a satisfied nod from Yvie when Brooke tells her she tried it, and that it helps, they haven’t talked about it. Neither of them says anything about who they see, what they do. But Brooke can’t help but wonder sometimes. Does Yvie know Vanessa’s face, her hands, the soles of her high-heeled boots? Has she seen the gray walls of Vanessa’s room, memorized the feeling of each different flogger against her skin? Has Vanessa humiliated her, shown off her lexicon of insults while Yvie kneels at her feet?_

_“Oh shit,” Yvie says, “I work with A’Keria most of the time.”_

_Brooke wants to ask what A’Keria’s like, but somehow, that seems too personal._

_“I’m surprised Vanessa picked her, though.” Yvie adds thoughtfully. “At least with me, she’s really gentle.”_

Brooke can’t help but think. That’s always been her weakness, in a way--if she’s not talking, not acting, she’s thinking, and even with her CBT skills, sometimes she barely notices she’s thinking until she’s halfway down a spiral she wouldn’t otherwise know how to pull herself from. And as much as she tries to distract herself while she showers, tries to breathe and focus on each action, she just can’t find a way to come up for air again.

 _Three things I can feel._ The lurch in her stomach when she thinks about walking into a small room crowded with people, the spinning in her head when she thinks about not having anything to say, the tightness in her chest when she imagines how people will talk about her.

 _Two things I can see_. Her own demise, how she’s going to be humiliated.

 _One thing I can hear_ \--

There’s a knock at the door, loud enough to sound over the rush of the water and Brooke’s racing thoughts.

“Stop wasting water and get the fuck out of there.”

Brooke can’t help it; she laughs a little to herself as she turns off the tap, her tension running down the drain with the last dregs of soapy runoff as she steps out of the tub.

_Brooke has always had a keen sense of hearing. It’s served her well at times--when you can hear what people are saying about you, you can know exactly how to deal with them. When you can hear the rush of traffic around you, you can chat on your bluetooth without losing track of what’s happening on the road._

_And, if you happen to find yourself in a situation where you’re sliding your shoes back on and waiting for the house’s main-door bouncer to bring you your coat, you can hear all the way back to the kitchen, where the two dominatrixes you’ve just hired are talking about what’s gone down._

_“You sure you wanna do this?” A’Keria’s voice is severe, tentative, full of careful consideration and meaning._

_“You don’t think I can trust her?” Vanessa’s voice volleys back with a tone in it that Brooke can’t quite read._

_“Nah, it’s not that. She ain’t got a bad bone in her body, an’ I can act a threat when I got to, you know that. But ain’t it gonna be hard on you, too? A week is a long time for a scene.”_

_“Well, yeah, but you’re gonna be there with me. I know you, bitch, you gonna look after me in more ways than one.”_

_“Yeah.” A’Keria laughs softly, “You know me, always playin’ the therapist.”_

_“That’s right, my thera-sis.”_

_“Shut up.” A’Keria cackles, and Vanessa’s own harsh, roaring laughter joins in, a symphony of sound that reassures Brooke as Silky hands over her coat and shows her out the door._

“Clothes are on the bed, get dressed.” Vanessa jerks a thumb over to Brooke’s bed, where she’s laid out a black dress, high heels, a bra, nude pantyhose, and, mercifully, a pair of panties for her to wear. Every choice of what goes on her body belongs to Vanessa right now; that was part of their agreement, too. Brooke is about to go over and start changing, when Vanessa suddenly pipes up again.

“You okay? You look a lil' green.” Vanessa peers at Brooke, concern behind her eyes despite her usual stern expression.

“I’m fine, mistress.” Brooke lies. Vanessa’s expression hardens.

“Don’t lie to me, brat. Give me the real answer, not the one you think I want to hear.” Vanessa’s voice has an edge to it, one that lets Brooke know that if she doesn’t take back the lie, she’ll be flipped over and punished so hard she might not even be able to walk into the mixer.

For a second, it’s tempting, but she figures that having to explain the reason for her absence will be worse than attending, even if she only goes for a little bit.

“I’m just… I’m anxious, I guess,” she admits, avoiding Vanessa’s gaze.

“You guess?”

“Okay,” Brooke sighs deeply, “I am. I am really anxious, mistress. I’m worried I’ll embarrass myself, and that people will hate me.”

The minute the words are out, the air in the room relaxes, and Brooke can breathe again.

“There now. Was that so bad?” Vanessa takes a step towards Brooke, expression softened as she reaches a hand forward and gently takes hold of Brooke’s chin, guiding her face up so that their eyes meet. Brooke shakes her head.

“Now, I want you to tell me somethin’, baby. Who do you belong to?” Vanessa’s voice is gentle and coaxing, like a schoolteacher comforting a crying child.

“You, mistress.”

“That’s right.” Vanessa purrs with approval. “And what are you to me?”

“Your plaything, mistress.”

“Good girl.” Vanessa lets go of Brooke’s chin and lets her hand fall to the blonde’s shoulder, resting there firmly as she whispers, “But you know what I do with my playthings, baby?”

Brooke doesn’t have a chance to answer; Vanessa’s already leaning down, planting a comforting kiss on her cheek.

“I take care of them. An’ I promise you, I’m gonna take care of you. Nothin’s gonna happen to you tonight ‘cause I’m gonna be with you. We gonna go down together an’ be fantastic, and any time you feel anxious, you’re gonna know I’m here to swoop in and fix it. I promise.”

Vanessa makes good on her promise; that night, when they go down to the mixer, Vanessa stays by her side, and all through the event, Brooke feels absolutely okay.

_“Well, it’s nice that you’re gonna have that support, girl.” Yvie smiles, giving Brooke a playful shove on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be well looked after.”_

_Brooke can’t tell if Yvie’s smirk means she’s half-joking, but it doesn’t matter. She knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that Yvie is right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of y'all have been asking to see the 'punishment' Vanessa threatens Brooke with in chapter 1... Well, no spoilers, but it's coming soon ;) ;) (pun not intended but duly noted)
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!!


	4. Crime & Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: Vanessa and Brooke arrive at the conference, and Brooke is really nervous about the first event. In flashbacks, her relationship to A'Keria is explored.
> 
> This chapter: Vanessa catches Brooke doing something against the rules. TW: VOYEURISM @ BEGINNING OF CHAPTER; PUNISHMENT DYNAMICS; MILD DESCRIPTION OF PANIC. This chapter is more intense than the others thus far, so PLEASE take care of yourself. Next chapter will include a brief summary of this one, so if you need to skip it, I promise you won't miss anything in the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wanted to see the punishment Vanessa had planned, so here y'all go ;) hope you enjoy!!! Thank you holtzmanns for betaing, you're the best <3
> 
> Punishment is a very nuanced thing. It NEEDS to be negotiated and preferably planned (as in, the sub has a good idea of what will happen and how). Different people in the kink community approach punishment differently, and it's often on a spectrum of 'funishment' ('punishment' designed to give the sub pleasure, like calling them a bad girl and spanking them to turn them on) to 'actual' discipline (where the sub breaks a rule and gets disciplined for it, often using something on their 'will' list that they are willing to do but don't necessarily like). Punishment should NEVER violate a sub's limits. EVER. And even if something isn't on their limit list, if that person safewords, RESPECT that safeword. 
> 
> Punishment should also NEVER be given out when you're angry. If you're domming someone and punishing them, you NEED to have a clear head, so put them in a corner, tell them you want to resume the scene later, forego punishment for a talk about it instead, just make sure that you are not angry when doing punishment because that can be really dangerous. 
> 
> Subs, if a dom isn't listening to you when you draw limits, they are not someone you should trust. This goes as well for when you use your 'yellow' safeword. If something hurts too much and you want them to let up, but they don't let up, that's abuse and you should avoid them at all costs from then on.
> 
> LAST BUT NOT LEAST, these fics? Are FICS. Do your research before you do anything kinky.

The first morning of a business trip is always the hardest. There’s always that one moment where Brooke wakes in a panic, not knowing where she is, why the walls are the wrong colour, why the sheets feel different. The one moment before she realizes she’s not at home, the moment of disorientation that lasts half a heartbeat but stays with her for the rest of the day, her mind scattered and breath erratic as she tries to forget the feeling of realizing that she’s lost. 

Today, though, the moment she wakes up, there’s a certain familiarity that grounds her, keeping her heart and mind stable. A familiarity who breathes softly as she sleeps, curled onto her side and wrapped in an oversized t-shirt that slopes off her shoulders. 

_Vanessa._

Vanessa’s here, and suddenly, Brooke knows where she is.

Vanessa stirs in her sleep a little, hands moving up to her mouth and fingers curling softly against her chin, eyelids tensing and then relaxing. Maybe she’s dreaming about something; maybe she’s just fighting against the urge to wake up. Either way, there’s something endearing about how small and gentle she looks, how vulnerable she seems in her serenity. The contrast is almost jarring; unlike the almost threatening persona Brooke asks her to portray, or even the casual, yet still business-like demeanor she displays outside of scenes, this Vanessa is soft, angelic even, laid out like a doll to look at and play with.  

Before Brooke can even think about what she’s doing, before she even really knows why, she feels her hand inching down between her legs, settling to soothe the burning need that’s beginning to rise there, her eyes locked on Vanessa’s face all the while.

_You don’t just wander into the place that Yvie’s recommended. Not long after she gives Yvie her answer, that okay, she’ll try this whole kink thing out, she gets an alert on her phone displaying an email from Yvie in her personal inbox. It’s a website, one that asks for Brooke’s age and consent when she clicks on the link before leading her to a page done up all in blacks, grays, and reds, options bar at the top of the screen displaying words that make Brooke feel dizzy._

_DUNGEON ROOMS/SPACES_

_ABOUT THE DUNGEON_

_MISTRESSES/MASTERS_

_FAQ_

_BOOK A SESSION_

_First things first, she flips through pictures of the space. It’s what she expected, or close enough--the rooms advertised are intimidating in their stereotypicality, painted dark and decorated with things that Brooke has thought about time and time again, things she’s tried to bring herself to try but has always chickened out of. There are a few specialized rooms, too: a nursery that makes her feel unsettled, a medical clinic that fills her head with images that make her nauseous, and a classroom that she actually thinks she wouldn’t mind using._

_Before that, though, she has to choose someone to try it with._

Everything Brooke is doing right now is something she shouldn’t. She knows that. Vanessa is her mistress, and more than that, Vanessa is a _person_ , not some pay-per-view fantasy Brooke can watch off the internet. She knows that Vanessa wouldn’t approve, and Brooke doesn’t blame her.

But then her pace picks up on itself, and she’s close, and she can’t stop. Doesn’t _want_ to stop, not deep down, not while there’s no chance of her getting caught--

She lets out a moan, and that’s when it all falls apart. Vanessa’s eyes snap open, and Brooke’s hands fly out from under the covers, hoping that Vanessa would still be disoriented enough that by the time she blinked all the sleep from her eyes, she would think that Brooke had just woken up, too.

Unfortunately for Brooke, Vanessa is probably the smartest woman she’s ever met. 

“Were you just doing what I think you were, you little pervert?” Vanessa’s voice is still hoarse and groggy, but her words are accusations that hit deep, spat out from her tongue like poison.

“No, mistress, I swear!” Brooke’s chest swells with sudden panic, the impact of her mistake hitting her like a slap in the face, one that she knows she’s well in danger of receiving for real. She watches, frozen, as Vanessa gets up from her bed, the distance between them closed in mere seconds with a hand pulling on Brooke’s hair.

“Didn’t I teach you not to fucking lie to me?” Vanessa yanks Brooke’s hair hard, angles her face upward so she can see how the usually-shorter woman towers above her in the moment. “Tell me the truth. _Now._ ”

It’s about to be bad; it’s about to be really bad. And Brooke wants every second of it.

“I wasn’t, mistress.” 

_Every dom on the website advertises themselves with a picture and a short bio illustrating what their level of experience, specialties, genders they work with, and rates are. Brooke flips through them with a keen interest, studying each bio intensely. She can eliminate many of them quickly--she doesn’t want a male dom, and many of the dominatrixes specify that they don’t work with women. Price isn’t really an object, so she doesn’t even bother glancing at that aspect. Then there comes the meat of the issue, the actual fetishes themselves. Brooke may not have much experience, but she’s seen enough porn now to know what she wants, or at least, what she wants to try. The words she’s looking for fly by on the screen, some of them written across several profiles, many that she has to look up. ABDL--no. Student/teacher--maybe. She’s still not sure yet. Humiliation--yes._

_In the end, though, it all comes down to pictures. The dommes, for the most part, are as intimidating and sultry as the website itself. There’s a redhead who poses while biting her bottom lip, a flogger slung over her shoulders. Another woman who faces the camera in a tight yellow-and-black corset, hands folded across her chest. Somehow, none of them feel right. Brooke is about to give up when she scrolls down to the very last picture, and suddenly everything clicks._

_MISTRESS VANESSA VANJIE. SPECIALTIES: HUMILIATION, IMPACT PLAY, VERBAL ABUSE, ORGASM PLAY, BONDAGE, SENSATION PLAY, D/S DYNAMICS. EXPERIENCE: 3 YEARS PROFESSIONAL, 7 TOTAL._

_The woman to the left of the text stands staring defiantly into the camera, clad in a leather jacket and posing with a hand on her hip. There’s a stark, intimidating frankness to her face, so stony and hard that she needs no extra expression to show that she’s someone harsh, someone who can and will put you in your place as soon as look at you._

_But the real kicker, the thing that seals the deal for Brooke, is the woman’s eyes._

_For all the cruelty written across her face, all the sternness in her stance, there’s a kindness there, a genuineness that lets Brooke know that at the end of the day, she’ll be taken care of._

_If Yvie’s review wasn’t enough to convince her, the sudden drip of wetness between her legs is; without a moment’s hesitation, she clicks the shortcut next to Vanessa’s name and lets it carry her to a calendar asking when she’d like to book a session._

“How do those ropes feel, bitch? Nice and snug?” Vanessa snickers as Brooke struggles against the rough, itchy ropes binding her wrists and ankles. The carpet chafes under her bare ass, and it’s all she can do not to fall over as she squirms, trying to loosen the ropes’ grips on her wrists.

“Stop squirming, or I swear to God I’ll hogtie you so tight you won’t be able to move.” Vanessa kicks out a foot and pushes Brooke over onto her back. “Is that what you want? Hm?”

“No, mistress.”

“Tell me what you did wrong.” Vanessa crouches down and grabs Brooke’s chin, staring directly at her, daring her to look up. She doesn’t.

“Come on, tell me!” Vanessa lets go of Brooke to bring her hand down hard on one of Brooke’s bare breasts, the sharp sting of the impact making Brooke cry out in surprise. 

“Stop whining and answer.” Vanessa growls, repeating the gesture on Brooke’s other breast.

“I touched myself without your permission!” Brooke yelps out as another hit comes, “And then I lied about it twice!”

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Vanessa’s hands become soft, rubbing out the areas where she’s hit and soothing the lingering burn that reddens Brooke’s skin, stings throughout her chest. “If you’d just be a good girl for me, it’d be a lot easier.” 

“Yes, mistress.” Brooke melts into Vanessa’s touch, though in the back of her mind she stays tense, knowing it’s not over.

“How’re we doin’, baby?” Vanessa’s movements slow, her voice suddenly cautious, though by no means gentle, at least not yet.

“I’m good.” Brooke nods, and the game is back on, Vanessa standing up to get ready for round two.

_If there’s one thing that Brooke can tell about Vanessa, it’s that she does her homework._

_When Brooke is in a business meeting, everything is written down and organized, diagrams drawn and talking points easily visible, every box checked and available for reference. Everything is checked over twice, a well-thought-through safety net in case she forgets, gets anxious, falls into doubt and embarrasses herself._

_It’s easy to forget when you’re so busy preparing, you don’t stop to remember._

_For Vanessa, though, there’s no such strategy, no will/want/won’t list done up on the wall or script to run through. It’s all in her head the minute Brooke crawls into the room, the flow of the session so smooth even Brooke forgets that it’s improvised._

_It’s as tantalizing as it is impressive, and within the first few sessions, Brooke’s hesitancy begins to melt away._

Vanessa is walking back towards Brooke with a blindfold in her hand when a knock in the door interrupts them. Brooke’s heart siezes, a horrific thought of a coworker seeing her naked and tied up on the floor flashing through her mind.

“Mistress, please let me--”

“I’m gonna check who it is before letting them in, don’t worry.” Vanessa barely looks at Brooke, already striding towards the peep-hole in the door. She makes good on her promise, pausing for a moment before turning back to Brooke.

“It’s A’Keria. Mind if I let her in? She probably just wants to check up on me.” 

Brooke nods, thanking her lucky stars that even in dom space, Vanessa knows when to pull back.

A’Keria lets out a whoop the minute the door closes behind her, her small frame squeezing through a crack so as not to let any passersby get a view of what’s going on further into the room. 

“Y’all get right to it, don’t you?” she laughs, folding her arms across her chest as she looks from Vanessa to Brooke and then back again.

“Miss piggie over here thought it was apri--ab--ap--it was fine to try rubbin’ one out while I was asleep.” Vanessa replies coolly, coming over to stand next to A’Keria and glare down at Brooke disapprovingly. “You came just in time to watch me put her in her place.”

Brooke blushes deeply, squirming against the heat that sears between her legs. It’s bad enough watching the disgust written across Vanessa’s face; the amusement in A’Keria’s eyes, though, is enough to bring the humiliation to a head. 

“Aw, you self-conscious?” Vanessa steps towards Brooke, crouches down again to stare her in the face. Brooke doesn’t meet her eyes; instead, she looks over to A’Keria, and then back at Vanessa, who nods, the signals between them more than understood.

They haven’t talked about this part. They haven’t talked about A’Keria being here, about what A’Keria’s going to do. And while Brooke _is_ open to it, doesn’t really care that she’s watching, she’s not sure what else will happen, or how A’Keria will react, or what A’Keria will think of her, and she’s panicking, she needs to stop, she needs her out of here, she needs--

“Why don’t you head down for breakfast, Ki? I’m all good ‘n safe, we can catch up with you later.” 

It’s barely thirty seconds before A’Keria is gone and Brooke is free, Vanessa rubbing her wrists and whispering comforts in her ear to make sure she’s okay. 

_“I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t on my limits, I know--”_

_“It’s okay, Mary.” Vanessa lets Brooke up from the floor, brings her out into the kitchen area and grabs her some water. “You’re allowed to change what your limits are.”_

_“Even if I don’t warn you? Or like, know for sure?” Brooke gulps the water down, flinching at how cold the sensation comes as it slides down her throat. Her eyes dart around, looking for anyone who might see her, and Vanessa stands her back up, leads her to a more private area to continue to talk._

_“Look, just ‘cause I punish you for somethin’ doesn’t mean it’s actually supposed to feel bad. Or, well. I mean, it is, but it’s not supposed to feel like total shit, y’know? I can’t have you panickin’ up in my room, I dunno how to deal with that shit after a certain point. If you feel yourself gettin’ there, it’s not punishment any more, it’s cruel, and I ain’t cruel.”_

_Brooke laughs. For all of the insults, abuse, and torments Vanessa dishes out on a weekly basis, Brooke can’t argue with that; on the contrary, the more she gets to know Vanessa, the more she seems like some kind of saint._

_“The only kind of sufferin’ I want you to feel is the kind that you like to feel, you feel me?” Vanessa smiles sheepishly, self-satisfaction and amusement sparkling in her eyes as Brooke snorts at the cheesy line._

_“Gotcha. So I guess next time, I won’t come without permission, and you won’t make me do strap-on play?”_

_“Consider it stricken from your ‘will’ list.” Vanessa nods._

_“Alright.” Brooke laughs a little as she nods back, and Vanessa laughs too._

_“Aight, Mary, stay and calm down as long as you need, and I’ll give you your fee back…”_

They sit together and breathe for a few minutes before Vanessa finally breaks the silence. “I’m really sorry about that with A’Keria, I didn’t mean for that--”

“It’s fine, really.” Brooke smiles kindly, “I didn’t mind her being there, I just didn’t want her to get any more--”

“Involved.” Vanessa nods. “Gotcha.” She stands up and extends a hand, pulling Brooke up with her.  

“You want to talk about it, or rest for a sec, or…?” 

Brooke shakes her head. “I think as long as it’s just us two in the future, or at least we talk about it more in detail first, I’m good.”

“Okay.” Vanessa nods, though Brooke can see the dull haze of concern, maybe guilt, even, in her eyes. “Maybe you should go shower or somethin’, then? Get ready for the day or some shit.” 

“Vanessa, you don’t have to stop the scene or--”

“Bitch, who said I was stoppin’ the scene?” Vanessa looks back up at Brooke, any emotion except exasperation wiped clean from her face as she demands, “What, just ‘cause I’m your mistress can’t mean I’m a decent fucking person?” There’s no malice in her words, only her usual tone, although a little softer this time, as though she doesn’t want to go full force again just yet. “Ain’t no use playin’ with a broken toy. I want you takin’ care of yourself while you’re with me. You have five minutes, go fucking shower.” 

It’s strange, probably not healthy, but there’s a certain comfort in being downgraded back to a toy again.

_“Tell me how sorry you are.” the paddle comes down hard on Brooke’s ass, the thuddy sensation making her cry out in something that leans more towards pain then pleasure._

_“So sorry, mistr--AH!”_

_“What was that?” Vanessa’s voice drips with bemusement at Brooke’s predicament as she takes another swing, hums with pleasure at Brooke’s cry. “Use your words, sweetheart!”_

_“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY I WAS A BRAT!”_

_One more hit, then Vanessa’s hands are on Brooke’s flesh, circling and soothing the area where bruises are already starting to form._

_“Good girl.” Vanessa praises, clicking her tongue, “Ain’t it so much better when you make up for your mistakes?”_

The rest of the day goes off without much more than monotony; Brooke wears the clothes she’s expected to wear, eats what Vanessa wants her to eat, goes to the talks and the luncheons that Vanessa deems appropriate. Occasional trips to ‘get something from the room’ bring paddling and other torments, little snippets of punishment for her earlier transgression. By the time evening falls, though, the morning is forgotten, their dynamic once again smooth and synchronized. 

_Maybe it’s the catharsis, or maybe the adrenaline; maybe it’s just relief at knowing her punishment is over. Either way, Brooke feels light as air when she leaves, smiling dreamily at Silky as she goes._

Brooke dozes off easily that night, her hands above the covers and beating in chest muted and stilled by the little sighs that Vanessa lets out in her sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! Updates will come a little slower now that a third multichap is in the mix (lololol) but hopefully this will be enough for the next bit <3


	5. Plausible Deniability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter: Brooke gets punished by Vanessa for crossing a boundary
> 
> This Chapter: A main event is approaching, and Brooke gets called out on something she'd rather not admit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Holtzmanns for beta-ing and pushing me to be a better writer, your support literally made this chapter what it is ❤️

It’s day four of the conference that Brooke starts to truly get restless. 

In two days, she won’t just be attending a panel—she’ll be sitting on one, and the mere thought of being in front of a fresh-faced group of young women leading startup companies is enough to make her stomach churn. There’s so much that could go wrong; she could fumble her words like an idiot, or be boring, or get heckled, or say something embarrassing, or heaven forbid make such a bad impression that she loses all her business—

“Bitch, I _said_ come here!” A sharp, growling voice interrupts Brooke’s spiral, clearing her mind of anything but crawling over to where Vanessa waits by the door. 

“I swear, it’s like you don’t even want breakfast.” The shorter woman rolls her eyes. “Get the fuck up, don’t keep me waiting.”

“Sorry, mistress,” Brooke pulls herself up and follows Vanessa out of the room, the impending potential disaster looming over her a moment ago finally pushed out of her mind.

_“It’s just that you’re really someone to look up to, Brooke—I think a lot of the young women at the conference will want to hear from you.”_

_Nina’s words are kind, and probably true, even if Brooke refuses to believe them. It’s odd, thinking of herself as a role model. She fought to get where she was, fought incredibly hard, but surely that didn’t mean others were impressed with her fight?_

_“Please, Brooke, trust me.”_

_Brooke has known Nina for years; she’s been there for Brooke as a mentor and almost mother since day one, and has always been honest and supportive. In a lot of ways, she owes Nina everything._

_Surely, then, she can push through and give her this._

Brooke and Vanessa eat breakfast quickly, both of them eager to get back to their room and get ready for the day. It’s funny; despite being attached at the hip all week, no one has so much as questioned their relationship or why they’re so close, who Vanessa is. Maybe it’s the quiet, yet threatening grace Vanessa has learned to move through the world with; maybe, Brooke thinks suddenly, it’s because they make that much sense together. 

She pushes away the thought as quickly as it comes to her. 

The truth is, as eager as Brooke is to get back upstairs and see what pre-conference activity Vanessa has planned for her, sitting and eating breakfast together is kind of nice. They don’t talk, at least not beyond directions to pass the salt or go get more coffee. Brooke doesn’t even look at Vanessa, not really; the last time she made that mistake during a meal, she had salad dressing “accidentally” spilled in her lap. Nonetheless, there’s calm in the quiet, and security in knowing that no matter what goes on around them, Vanessa will be a constant.

“Brooke? _Brooke!”_

A voice snaps Brooke out of her subspace daze, and she looks up to see an all-too-familiar face smiling widely as the woman who owns it surges towards her.

“There you are! I’ve been trying to catch you this whole weekend.” Nina comes to a stop in front of Brooke’s table, face red as she catches her breath. “I’ve been so busy running things, I haven’t had a second to come over and say hi.” 

Brooke is about to smile, about to greet Nina just as warmly, when the older woman’s gaze suddenly turns elsewhere, her smile moving from overjoyed to curious within seconds. 

“Oh, hello! Who’s this?”

_It’s not until every other negotiation has finished that Brooke realizes the glaring hole that she’s left in their plan._

_Nina._

_This is Nina’s conference--she’ll know who’s attending and where they’re from, what company they represent; the fact that she doesn’t know who Vanessa is will only make her less able to blend in. On top of that, there’s no way Nina won’t notice how Vanessa stays so close to Brooke all weekend, or how the air around them changes when they’re together; she knows Brooke too well at this point._

_No, they’re going to need a cover story, otherwise everything will be over._

_“What are we gonna tell people if they ask how we know each other?” Brooke asks the question more to stall while she thinks than to actually hear Vanessa’s answer. Vanessa doesn’t know Nina, and while she’s as fierce a businesswoman as any, she’s not in the dancewear industry. Claiming that she is would be a paper-thin cover. Maybe they could say that she’s a friend looking to break into the business. No, Nina would probably wonder why she hasn’t heard of a Vanessa before. Maybe she could be someone she’d just met, but really wanted to get to know? No, that was too convoluted, and it wasn’t like Brooke to get attached so quickly. Maybe--_

_“I guess we could say I’m your intern or somethin’,” Vanessa replies before Brooke can even steady her thoughts, “Like I’m shadowin’ you in this conference ‘cause I wanna learn how to be some kinda big boss lady?”_

_Brooke blinks, then nods._

_And just like that, everything falls into place in a way only Vanessa has ever been able to do for Brooke._

Before Brooke can stop her, Nina pulls up a chair and settles across from the other two women.

“So, Vanessa, an intern, huh?” Nina’s eyes twinkle with an expression only Brooke would know as suspicion, a scrutinizing mind hiding behind the excited smile Nina wears on her face.

She’s going to catch them, she’s going to sniff them out, and Brooke is almost definitely going to die. 

“Yes, um, she just started recently, and--” Brooke cuts herself off with a nervous laugh, the anxiety in her chest rising when she becomes acutely aware of the fact that she’s panicking and can’t do anything about it.

_Breathe. In, two, three, four, five, hold, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight--_

A light hand on hers stops her mind racing, and she looks up to see Vanessa smile reassuringly, roll her eyes a little as if to say, _Let me handle this._

So Brooke does. 

_Brooke has always been the kind of girlfriend parents hate._

_It’s not that she’s a trouble-maker, or flighty, or shady in the slightest. It’s that really, when she’s going to meet the family, Brooke doesn’t actually show up. Not the real Brooke, anyway. It’s business Brooke that shakes dad’s hand like he’s a new connection she needs to charm. It’s business Brooke who laughs politely at mom’s jokes like she’s about to close a deal and needs to butter the co-signer up to get the longer end of the stick. It’s business Brooke who holds back in front of the cats, determined not to make a fool of herself by rushing over and clicking her tongue and burying her face in their sides to feel their fur tickling at her nose._

_It’s business Brooke that prevents real Brooke from ever getting too close, because keeping your cards to your chest isn’t self-sabotage, it’s a wise business decision._

_“I worry about you,” Nina says to real Brooke far too often, “It’s like your whole life is work.”_

_If her whole life is work that’s fine by her, she’s_ good _at work._

_“You’re creative, and kind, and funny, but you never let that come out in front of people.”_

_Brooke does, she knows she does, but not in the way Nina means._

_“I just want you to be happy.”_

Vanessa answers all of Nina’s questions with an impressive grace, speed, and genuineness that Brooke herself probably never would have been able to muster. It’s one of those times when Brooke gets hit in the face with just _how much_ of a businesswoman Vanessa actually is, how much harder her industry is to navigate and how talented you have to be to thrive in it. It doesn’t matter what Nina throws at her—Vanessa keeps up like she’s heard it all before. And as the conversation continues, Brooke relaxes more and more, letting her anxiety fall away into the increasingly more familiar feeling of trust that she’ll be taken care of. 

“Well, it was really lovely meetin’ you, Nina,” Vanessa smiles, rising from the table, “But we really gotta go get ready for today. Brooke, could we…?” She gestures with her eyes for Brooke to get up and leave with her, but Nina, either not noticing or not caring, waves her off. 

“I need to talk with Brooke for just a sec, can she meet you up in your room, Vanessa?” Nina’s voice is polite and sweet, and it strikes Brooke that the tone is strikingly similar to the one Vanessa has been taking all conversation.

She’s not sure what that means, but knows it’s either something really good or really not. 

_At first, the hints are cute—funny, even. Nina mentions the eligible bachelorettes she met at a garden party on the weekend, invites Brooke along to meet them next week. Subtly drops that tinder has just upgraded its features. Occasionally, she even gets so bold as to ask if a model or actress in a movie they’ve just been to see is her type. Brooke waves them all off with a roll of her eyes._

_But then the hints start becoming more aggressive, barely qualifying as hints at all. Nina tells Brooke she’d like to set her up with a girl from her church, slips that she’s already given sweet Brunhilde her number. Invites her to events while failing to mention that they’re actually speed-dating. Even goes so far as to tell Brooke that she might reconsider her investments if Brooke can’t find a work-life balance, her tone and stare telling Brooke that the only balance the older woman is interested in her finding is the one that lets her keep herself up over a pretty woman’s face._

_Brooke knows Nina’s only doing it because she cares. She knows that she only wants her to be happy. She knows that Nina, too, knows how hard constantly hustling to the top can be, and how having someone else to come home to can make it so much better._

_Except Brooke doesn’t want better. She doesn’t_ need _better. Won’t let herself have better._

_Because the minute you’re finally satisfied with better, life always has a way of suddenly becoming so much worse._

Brooke thinks about Nina’s words all the way back up to her room, shaking her head in disbelief as she turns the conversation over in her mind.

_“I know you love her. I can see it. And I’m so happy for you.”_

It’s ridiculous, really, and Brooke already regrets not saying so. She’s not in love with Vanessa; how _could_ she be? She doesn’t even _know_ Vanessa. And Vanessa doesn’t know her either, not really.

If she did, she probably would have ended her business with Brooke a long time ago.

_“I can’t be around people,” Brooke shakes her head, “If I were, people would see the real me.”_

_“And what is the real you?” her therapist asks, pen poised over his charting paper. Brooke rolls her eyes._

_“Stupid, that’s what. And selfish. And incompetent. And a bad person.”_

_“Okay, but who told you all that?” her therapist narrows his eyes, and for the first time all session, Brooke becomes aware that she’s been sitting with her body scrunched up into her armchair, knees hugged protectively to her chest. She feels no inclination to relax them._

_“I don’t need to be told that. It’s not hard for me to see, and if people knew, they would hate me.”_

_“I would say I know you pretty well at this point, and I don’t hate you.” her therapist shrugs, and Brooke feels a flash of anger at his words._

_“Of course you don’t hate me,” she spits, “I pay you.”_

Vanessa’s already waiting for her when she gets into the room, closes the door, and falls down to her knees.

No, this is all it is. There’s no love here; just a business relationship. Vanessa likes Brooke because she pays her, and Brooke pays her to dominate her, to hate her in a way she can stomach. She likes Vanessa because she can trust her, because if there’s money involved, then she never has to worry about saying the one wrong thing that will make her look really bad, will make her look unfriendable, will make her look like someone you want to stay away from instead of get to know.

If there wasn’t any money involved, Vanessa would hate her for real, or worse.

She’d feel nothing at all.

But for now, at least, she has the money, and Vanessa’s staring at her, arms across her chest, foot tapping impatiently as she waits for Brooke to crawl over.

“My boots are dirty.” Vanessa shrugs nonchalantly, her implication already clear.

Brooke has barely put her tongue over Vanessa’s shoe before subspace takes over, every doubt fading from her mind as everything is swallowed into a fuzzy, peaceful focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU DO BOOT WORSHIP ONLY DO IT WITH VERY, VERY CLEAN BOOTS


	6. I Wish You'd Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: Vanessa met Brooke's mentor and substitute mom, Nina, who planted the seeds for Brooke to start realizing something she'd rather keep buried.
> 
> This chapter: It's the night before Brooke's panel, and she's incredibly anxious. Vanessa tries to help out and Brooke gets deeper and deeper in her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR INTERNALIZED TRANSPHOBIA AND MENTIONS OF BULLYING. PLEASE take care of yourselves. I will include a very detailed recap next chapter so if you need to skip this one, you won't miss anything, I promise. 
> 
> Title taken from Two Coffins by Against Me.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to Holtzmanns, who is the best ever. Holtz, you're an amazing cheerleader, validater, brainstorm buddy, and beta, and I can't stress how grateful I am for you <3

“Mistress?”

Brooke’s voice cuts through the silence in the room, a single whimper that sounds through the dark. The clock on her bedside table blinks an angry red _1:33 AM_ , and for some reason, the number frightens her, makes her feel alone.

_In every nightmare, she’s always alone._

_She calls out, but can’t make a sound. Looks around, but can’t see in the dark._

_Reaches out to feel, and her hand meets empty space._

_She wakes up in a cold sweat and rolls over, hugs the oversized, almost marshmallow-like bird plushie that her therapist had recommended she get for these exact occasions. It helps, at least, until her heart rate slows down and the goosebumps on the back of her neck begin to disappear._

_After that, she’s on her own._

“Mistress.” She tries again, and this time, Vanessa rouses, wiping her eyes as she yawns.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa's voice is hoarse with sleep and flat with the disorientation of someone who’s just been roused from a dream. A sliver of curiosity about what Vanessa might have been dreaming about crawls through Brooke’s mind, but she lets it pass. It’s none of her business.

“I can’t sleep, Mistress. I’m…” She trails off. She’s taken a Xanax. She’s done her breathing. What else is she supposed to do?

Her plushie isn’t here and she can’t play her usual calm-down documentary and she has a panel tomorrow, a panel putting her with a handful of other industry leaders who will be better than her, smarter than her, more eloquent than her, more popular than her. Who will all expose her for the fraud she is.

“Use your words, baby.” Vanessa’s voice is soft, as much an invitation as a reprimand as she slides out of her own bed and crosses over to Brooke’s, blinking any remainder of fatigue out of her eyes. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I’m anxious again, Mistress.” 

“I see.” Vanessa’s tone is unreadable, and Brooke feels her heart stop and a blush rise on her cheeks. She’s about to bite out a frantic apology when Vanessa looks up at her, her smirk soft and eyes kind despite the edge in her voice.

Or maybe she’s just imagining it.

“Spread your legs. Now.”

_Brooke is used to fighting - she’s always had to. She fought to keep bullies away, to teach them not to make fun of her after seeing her and her mother in the food-bank line. She fought to stop wearing boys’ clothes. Fought to stay home from church, stay away from meddling, ‘fixing’ hands. Fought to change her name, go on hormones._

_Fought to make something of herself - not just in business but in life, in her own mind._

_In order to command what people see of you, you need to be seen--so Brooke fought her parents, fought the court and the psychiatric system, fought for a name that fit and to start dressing the way she wanted. Fought to have people see her as Brooke, and to see her as having infinite potential._

_In order to command people’s interest in you, you need to be interesting--so Brooke fought to study, fought for scholarships, fought for loans to go to the best universities in the state and to catch the attention of the most influential professors. Fought mercilessly for internships and elbowed her way into every networking event she could find._

_In order to command what people think of you, you need to command how you think about yourself--and so Brooke fought to change her mindset. Good enough wasn’t good enough--she needed to be perfect. Earning space at the table meant that she could lose it when someone more deserving came along--she needed to make sure that no one would question her belonging. Everything became vigilant, a guessing game, a calculation of strategy._

_All she had to do was beat everyone else. All she had to do was win. And she couldn’t do that if she was soft, if she was too much herself--being herself was what set her fighting in the first place._

_So she hardened, closed herself off, became Brooke Lynn Hytes, CEO. Sure, her therapist told her it wasn’t healthy, but old habits die hard. Especially when you don’t really care to let go of the things that keep you safe._

“Bet that feels nice, huh?” Vanessa murmurs as she reaches down and massages Brooke’s centre through her pajamas. Brooke squirms, her breath coming out in a whine when Vanessa recoils at the movement.

“Oh, dear. Looks like I’ve got an impatient one on my hands.” Vanessa shakes her head in cool disapproval. “What a shame. And here I was gonna spoil you tonight. Well, have it your way.” 

Before Brooke can say anything in her defense, Vanessa’s pulling her down, stripping her of her clothes and yanking her hard off the bed. 

“Face the wall, put your hand on your pussy, but if I see it move then you’re going to be punished.” 

Brooke obeys without a second thought, gasping when her hand makes a connection with her clit. She’s aching, and just the added weight of her fingertips makes her clit throb with urgency, need and want making her shake with temptation. 

“Good girl. That’s right, hand nice and steady.” 

Without any more warning, Vanessa’s hand comes down and slaps the naked flesh of Brooke’s ass, making Brooke cry out.

“How we doin’?”

“I’m good.” 

More hits rain down in response, but Brooke is ready. Somehow, without even meaning to, she steels herself against the impacts, her hips staying still even as Vanessa finally switches to rubbing and soothing her stinging skin.

There’s something about the sensation that makes Brooke melt, even more than usual.

She tries her best not to think about what it means.

 _In the business world, in the trans world, in_ every _world for Brooke, attachments are a sticky paradox. You need attachments to survive—connections to network, friends to lean on, a family in the boardroom and the community centre. It’s her mentor Nina who helps her sell her first shipment of dancewear. It’s her friend Gia who nurses her back to health after her bottom surgery five years and six figures later. It’s her neighbours and classmates and coworkers that keep her happy and open, connected with the world and its goings-on._

_But every attachment comes at a price, and the investment is one that’s incredibly high risk. When Brooke transitions, her family fades away. When she moves up the corporate ladder, she loses time for her friends. As her life picks up speed, she neglects to let everyone catch up to her pace._

_She has a choice—fight to maintain the networks with everything she’s got, or push them away._

_Somehow, some way, Brooke finds a way to do both without even really trying._

“Take your hand off yourself, bitch.” Vanessa commands, replacing Brooke’s hand with her own on the taller woman’s clit.

When she begins to rub soft circles against Brooke’s wetness, though, it’s anything but an act of mercy. 

“Is this what you wanted, you little slut? Huh? Wanted my fingers on you, jerkin’ you off?”

Brooke moans, and Vanessa speeds up.

“God, that makes me sick. Perverts like you. I don’t even know why I’m givin’ you my attention. It’s not like you deserve it, waking me up this late. Ungrateful, that’s what you are.”

Brooke isn’t sure what happened; isn’t sure why the words hit so much deeper, why they landed so hard on the wrong note. Normally, the words would have her in a puddle, have her coming undone right into Vanessa’s hands.

It’s not supposed to feel this way. It’s not supposed to hit her in the chest, not supposed to make her feel sick or make her shudder with a feeling she can’t place, but definitely doesn’t want. Something is wrong. 

“Mercy.” 

_It’s nothing Brooke hasn’t heard before. Slut. Worm. Whore. Pig. Pervert. Brooke’s used to the words, used to hearing them in her own voice. Hearing them from Vanessa is nothing._

_In fact, somehow, it’s almost healing._

_“God, you really are a mess, aren’t you?” Vanessa presses Brooke’s face into the mat underneath her, speaks loudly and clearly so that Brooke can hear her even with Vanessa’s boot over her ear. “It’s alright, though. Sometimes messy toys are the most fun to play with.”_

_Fun. She’s fun._

_She hasn’t heard that word in a while._

Brooke is back on the bed in a heartbeat, Vanessa laying her down and peering at her with concern. This is standard; it’s Vanessa’s job to make sure Brooke is okay. That’s what Brooke tells herself, at least; in the moment, it’s hard to believe it. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to. 

Either way, when Vanessa opens her mouth to ask if she’s okay, Brooke answers her with hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. Here, let’s stop for a bit. Don’t worry.” Vanessa clicks her tongue, her voice taking on just a hint of worry as she slides into the bed next to Brooke, tucking her into the blankets. She hesitates, then adds, “D’you want me to hold you, sweetheart?”

Brooke shouldn’t want it. She doesn’t even _deserve_ it. Vanessa is her employee, not her therapist, not her friend, not her partner. She shouldn’t be relying on her like this. Hell, she shouldn’t be crying at all.

Still, against her better judgment, she nods, and lets herself relax into Vanessa’s embrace as the younger woman pulls her closer and begins to stroke her hair. 

_“And why do you think it is that you hate affection so much?”_

_“Well, I don’t_ hate _it, per se,” Brooke corrects, ignoring her therapist’s look as she explains, “It just makes me uncomfortable.”_

_“Okay, and why’s that?”_

_Brooke pauses. It’s a question that should be easy to answer—because it leaves her soft, because it makes her vulnerable. Because she doesn’t have time for any of that._

_Somehow, though, the words catch in her throat, and her mind goes blank._

Brooke shouldn’t like it when Vanessa runs her fingers through her hair, or be so comforted by the song Vanessa’s scratchy voice hums out into her ear. She shouldn’t feel so safe when Vanessa’s grip tightens, or when she leans down to kiss the top of Brooke’s head. 

She shouldn’t, because that’s not what Vanessa’s here for. It’s not what Vanessa wants, and it’s not what Brooke has hired her to do.

But Brooke feels warm nestled in the crook of Vanessa’s arm, and the song that she’s singing is just slow and sweet enough to stop her tears, and she suddenly finds she doesn’t care. 

_No matter why it works or whether or not her therapist would approve, every time Brooke has a chance to slip into sub-space and has a chance to take a break, she’s grateful._

  
Brooke falls asleep safe and sound, and a soft _thank you_ is the last thing that escapes from her lips before everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We stay hydrated on respecting trans women juice in this house, transmisogynistic comments will be deleted immediately and not approved to appear.


	7. Tattoo Your Love on my Heart (Let the Rumours Be True)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER: It was the night before the panel, and Brooke anxiously reflected on her journey of transitioning, rising the ranks in the business world, and fighting herself. When Vanessa tried to help the way she usually does, the verbal humiliation became too much and Brooke safeworded. Vanessa comforted her and made her feel safe. 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER: In the aftermath of Brooke's anxiety attack, it's the day of the panel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEGOTIATION IS NOT A ONE TIME THING. IT IS A CONSTANT, ONGOING PROCESS IN A HEALTHY KINK DYNAMIC. BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE, KINK DYNAMICS ARE STILL FORMS OF RELATIONSHIPS, AND COMMUNICATION NEEDS TO STAY OPEN AND HONEST NO MATTER HOW YOU RELATE TO THE PERSON YOU'RE COMMUNICATING WITH. If you're with someone who makes you feel bad for changing your limits or boundaries, then that person is toxic. 
> 
> Also, NEVER feel like you have to do something just because it's not a hard limit. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO SAFEWORD OVER SOMETHING THAT IS NOT A LIMIT. SAFEWORDS ARE THERE FORE ANY TIME YOU WANT TO STOP. 
> 
> Title taken from Don't Judge Me by Janelle Monae. Thank you, thank you, thank you Holtzmanns for beta-ing this and cheering me on <3

_ Brooke doesn’t do relationships anymore. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to, not really—more that the more she tries, the more tired she gets. _

_ “You gotta feel sexy, boo. Feel your oats until someone feels them back.” Brooke’s best friend quips over coffee. Brooke shimmies into every low-cut dress she can find, paints her lips with the brightest reds and glitteriest pinks, but nothing sticks--nothing seems to fit.  _

_ “You just have to be yourself. It’ll be okay.” Nina advises with a shrug. It’s a hollow suggestion, one Brooke has to physically stop herself from laughing at; the last time Brooke was herself on a date, the woman accused her of catfishing.  _

_ “Don’t worry about it. They’ll love you.” her last girlfriend says before Brooke meets her family. They don’t, and Brooke never calls her back again. _

_ “You should come home with me.” She was used to hearing it now; used to falling into girls’ beds and planting kisses she didn’t mean on their lips, only to wake up at 4 the next morning and slip out without leaving a note.  _

_ Only this time, it’s different. Because when she wakes up to make her escape, she’s still in Detox’s arms, the sleeping woman’s grip unbreakable around her waist. _

_ Brooke sleeps for another three hours that morning, until Detox’s alarm goes off and they both have to run.  _

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Brooke wakes up to Vanessa’s purring voice and a hand petting her hair, the other extending a bottle of water towards her.

_ Fuck.  _ Brooke jolts up, memories of the previous night flooding her mind as she comes to, her skin burning with embarrassment and head spinning with shame.

Fear and insecurity and tears. That’s what happened, that’s what she caused, and she’d roped Vanessa into it. God, she was so stupid, she was  _ so fucking stupid.  _ Vanessa wasn’t here to be her therapist or her babysitter, she was here to be her domme, and she’d let her down, she’d underperformed. She’d done too much and in the process, not enough, and taken Vanessa with her.

The thought comes to her before she can stop it--had Vanessa been scared? Worried? Concerned for Brooke? 

Why did it suddenly matter?

“Mistress, I’m so sorry, fuck, I’m so so--” Brooke’s grovelling is cut short by a warm hand resting gently on her mouth, more to calm her than to shut her up.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby, I promise. You’re not in trouble, but I need you to stay calm and breathe. Can you do that for me?” 

Brooke nods, her exhale coming out hot and deep against Vanessa’s palm and heartbeat already slowing back towards its usual pace.

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to take my hand away, and the only thing I want to hear from you is yes, you want to continue the dynamic, or no, you want to stop. Do you want to keep going with this?”

“Yes, yes please, mistress.” Vanessa’s hand is barely off of Brooke’s mouth when the words fall from her lips. 

_ At first, it’s sex--just sex, like it always has been. Brooke knows the drill. She shows up at Detox’s place with only a text’s notice, they fuck, they sleep.  _

_ Only at some point, Detox starts to make her breakfast in the morning. And at some point, when Brooke wakes up, she can’t resist turning over and giving Detox just a little good-morning kiss. And then Detox comes over, and stays for dinner, and soon they’re going out to the movies, holding hands in the street. _

_ They never say the word ‘girlfriend.’ Neither of them want to. It would just complicate things. For now, they’re getting to know each other, seeing where things go. Why bother with the label? _

_ She keeps taking Detox out, keeps kissing her, keeps learning about her past and her future, her likes and dislikes, her whole world. Devours the knowledge. But she’s not her girlfriend--she can’t be. Because putting something together only means that Brooke runs the risk of breaking it.  _

_ Besides, it’s not like Detox ever says it herself. It’s not like she’s ever given any indication of wanting to do so. _

_ No matter what, they keep kissing, keep holding each others’ hands, keep learning about each other’s worlds. Keep growing closer. _

_ ‘Cause that’s just what friends who fuck do. _

“I want to talk about this, but I know you got your panel in a couple hours, an’ I don’t wanna wig you out, ‘cause I got a theory that had somethin’ to do with it. So I’mma give you a choice. We talk about it now, or we talk about it later.”

It doesn’t take Brooke long to decide.

“Later.” It’s always later. But if Vanessa catches the avoidance, she lets it go. Instead, the younger woman’s face smooths out into a calm smile.

“Well, then. Since you’ve been such a good girl all trip and have such an important event comin’ up, I think it’s about time you got spoiled, ain’t it?” Vanessa uncaps the water bottle and holds it to Brooke’s lips, waiting for her to take a drink before putting it back on the bedside table. “How would you like to go into that panel all nice and fucked out, sweetheart?” 

Brooke nearly chokes on her water. When Vanessa laughs, though, it’s not the usual derisive cackle--rather, it’s soft and affectionate, quiet, as if she’s watching a child play. 

It’s enough to make Brooke settle, nodding eagerly and keening into Vanessa’s touch as she runs a hand through Brooke’s hair again. 

“So eager for me,” Vanessa’s hand drops from Brooke’s hair and trails down over the side of her face, stroking against her cheek before continuing down to trace over her collarbone. “Good girl. Now spread your legs.”

_ “This is Alaska, and this is Roxxxy.” Detox points towards each girl respectively, beaming as they wave casually. “Girls, this is Brooke.” On cue, Brooke smiles and waves back shyly. Detox gives her a little nudge, and she slides into the seat opposite Alaska at the table, unable to stop herself from blushing as the other woman looks her up and down.  _

_ “So, what are your intentions with our dear Detox?” Alaska deadpans, and Brooke’s heart stops. Intentions? What was that supposed to mean? Did she even  _ have _ those with Detox? Was she supposed to? Fuck. A minute into this brunch and she’d already failed-- _

_ “‘Lask, stop messing with her.” Roxxxy interrupts Brooke’s spiral, rolling her eyes and reaching over to give Alaska a playful shrug. “Don’t worry about her, Brooke, she’s just being a dumbass.”  _

_ “Correct terms, darling. Dumb- _ anus _. Remember your science classes.”  _

_ Roxxxy mimics Alaska’s quip in a high-pitched whine, and when Brooke looks over at Detox, the woman has her face in her hands, looking about ready to kill both of her friends. _

_ Brooke laughs, and then Detox does too, and pretty soon, they’re all laughing and chatting like they’ve known each other for years.  _

_ It’s so easy to get caught up in the moment, swept away by the joy and friendliness at the table, that Brooke doesn’t even notice Detox paying for both of their meals.  _

“Such pretty long legs.” Vanessa clicks her tongue as she traces her fingers up and down Brooke’s thighs, stopping just short of her groin before travelling back down. She watches with amusement as Brooke squirms at the sensation, muscles twitching.

“Don’t let me catch you trying to close your legs, kitten. I said keep them open.” The purred warning drips with meaning and bemusement in Brooke’s ear as Vanessa’s touch becomes firmer, bearing down and blocking Brooke’s thighs from moving even an inch. 

“Yes, mistress.” Brooke acquiesces with a nod, sighing with relief when the teasing resumes. She barely has time to enjoy it, though, before two of Vanessa’s fingers are tapping gently at Brooke’s lips, waiting for her to suck them into her mouth.

“Such a pretty little fuckdoll, sucking on my fingers like that. How do they taste, baby?” 

When Brooke tries to respond, Vanessa forces her fingers in further, smirking when Brooke gags and then corrects herself, closing her lips around the digits again while Vanessa hums approvingly. So much for taking it gentle.

Old habits die hard, Brooke supposes.

When Vanessa’s fingers are finally wet to her satisfaction, she slides them out of Brooke’s mouth, clicking her tongue again when a trail of spit follows, detaching itself to drip down onto Brooke’s chin.

“No, no, leave it,” Vanessa commands when Brooke goes to wipe it off, her eyes darkening as she adds, “You’re gonna be a mess for me in a minute anyway.” 

Without skipping a beat, the cool wetness of Vanessa’s fingers meets the slick soak of Brooke’s vulva, and Brooke is already gone. 

_ “Have I ever told you how much I love your hands?” _

_ They’re laying in bed, palms pressed together and pads of their fingers touching gently, the soft sound of crickets chirping keeping time outside their window. It’s two am, and they should be asleep but they’re awake, pajamas thrown on the floor, feeling each other’s bodies and enjoying the warmth that radiates off of each other’s skin. _

_ Detox has told Brooke a thousand times how beautiful her hands are. How soft they are when Detox holds them. How skillful they are when she wraps them around Detox’s cock. How dainty they look when she’s scribbling furiously onto a pad of paper, trying to crunch numbers at record speed across Detox’s kitchen counter.  _

_ Brooke has rolled her eyes every time, but not tonight. _

_ Instead, she kisses Detox slow and soft, on her cheeks, her lips, her neck. _

_ “You’re so beautiful, honey.” Brooke says, and she means it. Detox  _ is  _ beautiful, and kind, and funny, and safe. Safe to touch and be touched by. Safe to talk to. Safe to be herself around.  _

_ Safe to lie in bed with at 2 am and not have sex with but still be naked around, still enjoy the warmth of each other’s bodies for what they are-- _ who _ they are--instead of what they could be doing to each other.  _

_ Somehow, though, it feels hollow. Not in the sense that Brooke is lying, not really.  _

_ Only in the sense that she doesn’t  _ love _ Detox’s cheeks or her lips or her neck. She doesn’t  _ love _ how beautiful, or kind, or how funny Detox is.  _

_ And the knowledge of that, that all this beauty and kindness and humour is hers, that she wants it, but not in the way it wants to be wanted, is enough to crush her inside. _

_ Instead, she lets out a sigh and snuggles closer into Detox’s chest. It’s a problem that’s waited this long, it can keep waiting until the sun comes up. _

_ Besides, even if she doesn’t love Detox, there’s no reason she couldn’t one day. Maybe. Hypothetically.  _

_ For now, she’d rather listen to Detox sigh deeply and let out her own happy exhale, because comfort and contentment can exist even without love as long as she and Detox are together in each other’s arms.  _

Somewhere after her sixth orgasm, Brooke loses track of how many she’s had. Vanessa’s fucked her every which way she could think of within the hotel room’s walls, commanding Brooke only to keep two rules: beg to come, and thank her after each time. Simple enough; Brooke’s never been particularly bratty, so she takes what Vanessa gives her, first on the bed, then against the wall, then in the shower with Vanessa standing outside the tub holding the showerhead against Brooke’s clit. Vanessa never undresses herself, never asks Brooke to return the favour; it’s one of her boundaries, one of the only things she won’t do in order to keep some control of the situation. 

By orgasm number eight--she thinks, at least, she still can’t remember--Brooke doesn’t really care. All she cares about is getting to whatever number is next. 

“Damn, I knew you needed a good fuck, but really, kitten? Ten? And you ain’t even tired yet.” Vanessa clicks her tongue, but is unable to suppress a smile as she drags Brooke out of the tub, forces her up against the bathroom counter and bends her naked body directly onto the cold marble surface.

Ten. So that was it. 

By the time she gets to eleven, she’s worried that having her face pressed against the counter might leave a mark. One look at Vanessa through the mirror, though, and the domme nods, drags her up and out of the bathroom entirely, leads her to crawl back onto her bed.

“I think you got one more in you, don’t you think?” Vanessa goes straight for Brooke’s clit, ignoring Brooke’s yelp of surprise when her fingertips make contact. “Or does it hurt now?”

It does, but Brooke doesn’t say anything. There’s something about the pain she wants, something she thinks she deserves.

Maybe going into the panel sore will distract her. Or maybe it’ll just make up for the mistake she made last night, the one Vanessa keeps insisting doesn’t exist but that Brooke just can’t let go of.

Either way, Vanessa catches her hesitancy immediately, and it’s met with a furious, searing spank to Brooke’s clit.

“I was tryin’ to spoil you, that don’t mean you get to be greedy an’ hide things from me, you understand?” The sweet tone of Vanessa’s voice vanishes, clouded over by the more familiar growl of her sterner moods. Brooke swallows hard, then nods. She half expects the exchange to be met with another spank, but instead, Vanessa chooses a more traditional, creative route.

“Alright then, since you want more, how ‘bout you get more? I think four is gonna be okay.” Vanessa’s voice drips with sweetness as her mouth curls into an almost evil smile, the twinkle in her eyes betraying the knowledge that if Brooke can even  _ manage _ four, it’s going to leave her aching for days. 

Luckily, the alarm on Brooke’s phone goes off, signalling the hour before the panel that it’ll take her to get ready, and Brooke lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing back onto her pillow to recover. They say nothing until Brooke’s breathing slows and the shaking in her legs quiets, leaving them room for Vanessa to wordlessly bring Brooke up and back on her knees to crawl, however effortfully, to the shower. 

_ “Move in with me.” The words are barely audible, whispered against the top of Brooke’s head in that tentative-yet-impulsive way that only Detox can manage.  _

_ Brooke doesn’t respond; she can’t respond. Doesn’t know how to. So she pretends to fall asleep, and lets the words die tingling with Detox’s breath on her hair.  _

_ Detox doesn’t bring it up again in the morning.  _

“Come here, angel, I have one more thing before we get going!” Vanessa calls out to Brooke as she shimmies into the clothes Vanessa has picked out for her. Without a second thought, Brooke drops to her knees again and crawls over to where Vanessa stands at the front foyer of their room, beaming proudly at the way Brooke keeps her eyes downcast.

“Look at me, sweetheart, and get up. I’mma need you standing for this.” 

Brooke obeys, and that’s when she notices that Vanessa is holding something in her hands.

“Turn around.” Vanessa beams, and Brooke obeys again without a second thought. Suddenly, she feels something loose and soft, a little cold, draping against her skin, and hears a click as a clasp shuts behind her.

A necklace, thick and black and just loose enough to hang at the bottom of her neck. 

Almost like a collar would.

“Now tell me who you belong to.” Vanessa rasps in Brooke’s ear, her fingers tracing a line down Brooke’s back to chase the shiver that runs down it.

“You, mistress. I belong to you.”

“That’s right. And I’mma be right there with you today, so when you get anxious, or scared, I want you to look down at that necklace, remember who you belong to, and remember that your mistress is gonna make everything okay.”

Vanessa’s voice is so soft, so earnest, that Brooke can’t help but believe it with her whole heart as they head out the door.

_ Brooke can’t say for sure when it sours. She can’t even say why it did in the first place. All she knows is Detox does everything right, and the better it gets for Brooke, the worse it feels.  _

_ Detox picks her up from work one day, and Brooke fidgets through the whole ride. Detox gives her a gift for her birthday, and she never even takes the sparkling earrings out of their box. Detox asks her what’s wrong, and she tells the truth. _

_ Nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing is wrong. _

_ So why does everything feel that way?  _

_ “Baby, come on,” Detox begs, a blush rising in her cheeks when she notices how Brooke flinches at the pet name. “Tell me what’s wrong, please.” _

_ Brooke has nothing to say to her--if she did, if she opened her mouth now, she’d have to admit that there was nothing wrong, nothing Detox had done to get things to this point. If anything, Detox had done everything right. Anyone else would be thrilled, and that’s exactly why Brooke can’t be. _

_ Because Detox deserves someone who wants the same things, not someone who flinches away from them. _

_ “Seriously, Brooke, you have to put in some effort here!” _

_ She’s already putting in effort, just by standing in Detox’s living room, just by forcing herself to look at the other woman’s face. By admitting that nothing, absolutely nothing, is wrong. Because it isn’t--everything is right, and it’s what Detox deserves. _

_ It’s what Brooke deserves that’s the problem. _

_ “I can’t believe this is how my girlfriend treats me.” Detox gripes under her breath, and that’s when everything breaks.  _

The panel is just fine--it always is. Brooke can’t really think of a time that she hasn’t pulled through, even when her mind freezes and heart races. Somehow, some way, she always performs. Sure, she stammers and blushes and stumbles--doesn’t say something that she had planned to, lets something slip that’s not in her script--but it’s almost as if no one notices. In fact, everyone seems to think quite the opposite.

“You did amazing, Brooke!” Nina wraps her in a tight hug after the panel, her face as smug as it is happy, obviously holding back a teasing  _ I told you so.  _ Women ranging in age from as young as Yvie to as old as Brooke come up and tell her how helpful her advice was, how inspiring they found her story. The other panelists shake her hand, slip her their business card and tell her that they’d love an associate as eloquent as her. Even Vanessa has something to say about it, whispering a warm  _ I’m proud of you _ that makes Brooke’s heart skip.

Brooke eats it all up while she can, the thrill of being praised enough to carry her through another networking lunch. 

Of course, all good things must come to an end. For Brooke, that comes the minute she and Vanessa step foot back into their room and self-doubt takes over. 

“Are you ready to talk?”

**_D: can we please talk about this_ **

**_D: I need to know what I did wrong_ **

_ Brooke ignores the texts, letting them collect in her messages like dust on an old clock. She’s busy, she has work to do, people to impress, a company to run. It’s not personal, it’s just business as usual. _

**_D: why don’t you care about me?_ **

**_D: please, I miss you_ **

**_D: can you just acknowledge I’m alive please_ **

_ Brooke makes the mistake of opening the last one (she tells herself it’s because having 17 unopened texts makes her anxious. Who they’re from doesn’t matter, it doesn’t. Really. It doesn’t). She should have known Detox would switch her settings to read receipts; the minute she opens the text, a timestamp appears beneath it, along with three moving dots signalling danger. _

**_D: I know you’re reading these, bitch_ **

**_D: so you’re really just gonna ignore me like that?_ **

**_D: you’re a child. You’re an actual fucking child._ **

**_D: fuck you_ **

_ It’s nothing Brooke hasn’t heard before. Hell, it’s nothing she hasn’t  _ thought _ before. Still, the words play in her mind over and over as she watches the texts come through, this time without opening them.  _

_ She doesn’t need to. She already knows what they’ll say, and she can’t say she doesn’t deserve it. _

_ But then the unexpected happens. _

**_D: I love you._ **

_ She stares at the message for longer than she should, longer than she can help. _

_ Then, she opens it. _

**_B: I’m sorry._ **

“First, I’mma ask you again: you sure you wanna keep up this dynamic?”

Brooke shifts on the soft surface of her bed, but keeps her gaze fixed steadily on Vanessa’s face opposite her. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They’re in their room again, munching on room service pizza and sipping mini-bar tea, trying their best to stay calm and business-minded. At least, Brooke is; when she looks at Vanessa, she’s not really sure how much effort it’s taking her to look as cool and focused as she does at the moment.

If Brooke notices a small undercurrent of nerves from the other woman, then she’s sure she’s just projecting.

This is just business, after all.

So why is her heart pounding?

“Okay, if you wanna continue, then I wanna know what happened, then I wanna re-negotiate your limits.” Vanessa continues, cutting Brooke’s over-thinking off at the pass and bringing her back to the conversation. 

“I’m not sure, honestly. I think it was the insults. Like, I was just so in my head about the panel that all the verbal humiliation stopped being cathartic. It was more like... I don’t know. Usually, when you say those things it’s like taking them out of my own head. Last night it was almost like I became convinced that you actually thought all of those things about me.”

For a moment, Brooke swears that she sees flashes of sadness and concern move across Vanessa’s face, but if they are there, they become smoothed out and disappear before Brooke can be sure.

“It’s stupid, I know, I’m sorry—“

“Hey. Stop. Stop. No, it’s not. It’s valid.” Vanessa gets up and comes to sit by Brooke, places a hand on top of Brooke’s. They both blush, suddenly acutely aware of themselves, but Vanessa stays the course, moving against the embarrassment and squeezing Brooke’s hand a little.

Brooke doesn’t flinch away.

“I get it, okay? Anxiety works like that sometimes, I knew what I was gettin’ into. I’m jus’ glad you safeworded while you still could. I’ve had clients straight up dissociate on me, an’ I really ain’t qualified to deal with that.”

The word client hits Brooke like a kick in the chest, but she ignores it, focusing on Vanessa instead.

She  _ is  _ a client of Vanessa’s, after all. Nothing more. 

“That bein’ said, I wanna make sure that doesn’t happen again. So I wanna run through your will/want/won’t list again, make sure nothin’s changed.”

_ The morning after she texts Detox back, she goes to therapy. _

_ Dr. Charles tells her she hasn’t failed. That these things are lessons, not tests.  _

_ She doesn’t believe him. _

They finish the will/want/won’t list quickly, with very little changes. Really, the only boundary that they institute is another safeword:  _ Easy _ , for when the verbal humiliation is getting too much, and the protocol needs to become some praise and a small break for gentler touch until Brooke feels adequately soothed. 

_ Detox never texts Brooke again, and part of Brooke is grateful. There’s nothing left for her to say, and there’s nothing else she wants to hear. _

_ Still, Brooke wonders sometimes what would have happened if she had told Detox the truth, told her that she had known all along and still done nothing. Or if she had lied, and told Detox that she loved her back. _

_ She doesn’t want to find out, so she says nothing at all. _

“Alright, Mary, looks like we’ve covered everything we needed to… Anythin’ else you wanna tell me?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Brooke can swear she feels the heavy weight of expectation in the air, though she’s not sure of the source. 

It’s when she opens her mouth to speak, to tell Vanessa that no, she’s good, that the thought comes to her, and her mouth closes, breath suddenly gone.

_ I love you. _

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed <3 <3 <3


	8. Sleepless Nights (Always Seem to Lose These Fights)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER: Vanessa comforts Brooke on the day of the conference and renegotiates her boundaries in the aftermath of her incident with verbal humiliation. As a result of this conversation, Brooke realizes that she loves Vanessa.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER: Brooke goes to A'keria for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, GUYS!!! Ngl, this chapter was actually really difficult to write for some reason, so it took some extra time. But I'm back on track!!! I want to write another chapter of the sound of music fic before I come back to this one, but I hope that one will be worth the wait!!
> 
> Title from the song Light a Fire from Carole & Tuesday (fight me). Thank you, Holtz, for cheering me on, helping me brainstorm, and beta-ing this! I love you so much <3
> 
> TW FOR HOMOPHOBIC AND TRANSPHOBIC SLURS in the schoolgirl scene flashback. The passage is in italics and starts with "Vanessa is dressed like a schoolteacher..." and ends with the phrase "It's an extra sense of security that Brooke can't help but love", for anyone who needs to skip that scene.

“Where’s Vanjie?” A’keria opens the door so suddenly that Brooke can’t help but jump back in surprise. 

“She’s in our room, sleeping.” Brooke stammers, pretending not to notice the way A’keria’s eyes darken and her brow arches in surprise and some sort of subtle accusation at the word ‘our.’ Brooke bites back the urge to apologize; that’s not what she’s there for, at least not yet. Besides, it’s not really what A’keria’s after. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

A’keria eyes her up and down for a moment, sizing her up, almost as if she’s deciding whether or not to believe her. Brooke is half afraid that A’keria might decide she’s still suspicious, might demand to see Vanessa with her own two eyes, might wake Vanessa up to make sure she’s okay. Might blow this whole idea, this whole stupid, desperate, thoroughly bad yet utterly necessary idea.

Luckily, though, A’keria relaxes, her face smoothing out as she nods sternly, and Brooke lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding in. “So what you want from me, then, Miss Brooke?”

Brooke swallows hard, the urge to run flashing through her entire body momentarily, but quickly dissipating as she sets her mind to what she’d come here for. “We need to talk. Please.”

_When Brooke tells Silky that she wanted to see Vanessa again, the first move Silky makes is to nod, then walk away from Brooke, into the house. Brooke falters for a moment, unsure of what her next move should be; should she follow the other woman, or stay put? Where is Silky even going? Maybe to the consultation room, to get some kind of form or contract? Brooke feels herself depart from the sleepy, subby space she had been floating in only moments ago, her business mind slipping into its place. If there’s a contract involved, then she’ll need some time and a place to review it--_

_“Okay, I double-checked with her and your request checks out, here’s her contact info.” Silky interrupts Brooke’s planning, thrusting a slip of paper into her hands. To Brooke’s surprise, there’s Vanessa’s name and phone number written on it in clear, neat handwriting._

_Huh._

_So it was that easy._

_It’s not until Brooke gets home that she thinks about the slip of paper again. There must be some kind of etiquette for this, some kind of appropriate script or custom for how this kind of interaction should go. Isn’t there? Brooke feels her heart begin to pound as she thinks her next move over. Will Vanessa be waiting for her text, or will a message less than an hour after her session seem desperate and creepy? Should she use formal language, or be more casual? And for God’s sake, how should she even put Vanessa’s name in her phone?_

_After about an hour of attempts to distract herself, to leave her subconscious to do the thinking, Brooke settles on saving Vanessa as ‘Ms V’ in her phone, then drafts a quick text, sending it without looking, without breathing, before the impulse has a chance to leave her._

**_Brooke: Miss Vanessa, I hope this message finds you well. This is Brooke Lynn Hytes, I was your 5:30 PM appointment this evening. I was hoping to connect with you to schedule another appointment with you at your earliest convenience. Please provide me with some dates and times you are available, preferably in the next two weeks. Thank you & I look forward to hearing back from you, Brooke Lynn Hytes._ **

_It takes less than a second for the doubt to set in, thoughts about word choices and how her punctuation might come across slashing through her chest like knives that leave her dizzy and unable to breathe. She considers sending a follow-up text, something apologizing for the first, begging to know if her first was appropriate, if she offended Vanessa in any way, but before she can pick her phone up to begin drafting it, a notification shows up on her screen._

**_Ms V: lol you’re cute. No need to be so formal, baby. How’s the same date & time next week._ **

_Brooke lets out a deep, shaking exhale and smiles despite herself._

**_Brooke: Yes, that works fine. Thanks._ **

A’Keria puts the mug of tea down on the table and slides it towards Brooke, sitting down opposite her calmly and without looking away for a moment.

“So what is it that’s so urgent you had to sneak out and wake me up at 1:30 in the morning, Miss Brooke?” her words come out in a hard, skeptical drawl, her gaze pointed and scrutinizing as she takes a long sip of her own tea. 

“It’s about Vanessa.” Brooke states frankly, chewing her lip. 

“I gathered.” A’keria points an eyebrow, the frank sternness in her face unchanging even when Brooke feels herself recoil. 

This had been a terrible idea. Brooke should have known; she _had_ known, and she’d done it anyway. Fuck. She shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have tried to do this, she should have just run, should have just left, should have just kept this to herself--

 _No._ Something inside Brooke clicks suddenly, determination kicking her swiftly in the chest. 

No more running. She needed to deal with this, and she needed to deal with it now.

Not just for Vanessa, but for herself.

“I’m in love with her.” Brooke closes her eyes and lets the confession slip out of her like air, the words propelling out breathlessly as she exhales. The minute they’re out, it’s like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders; she feels light, floaty, her whole body buzzing with pride and adrenaline at finally having admitted to what she’s been trying to hide. 

When her eyes open again, though, she’s roughly brought back down to earth, the old weight doubling in size. 

A’keria’s face has gone from severe to wrinkled in disgust, her eyes moving up and down Brooke as if she’s biting back something cruel to say, something that would destroy her instantly. 

“It’s--It’s not that I’m looking for your blessing--” Brooke starts babbling, hoping that by starting her mouth it’ll find its way to an explanation, an apology, _something_ to stop A’keria from hating her, from thinking she’s some kind of predator or pervert, anything like that, but before she can, A’keria snorts, cutting her off.

“I sure hope you ain’t, cause you ain’t gonna get it.” A’keria sucks her teeth, her voice sour. Brooke feels herself go crimson, and she can’t help but shrink back a little at A’keria’s gaze. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. She’d come here for advice, and she’d pissed off the one person who could have given it to her, and now she probably looks like a kid caught trying to throw a baseball through her neighbour’s window. Like she’d done something wrong. And she had, she fucking had, she’d gone and fallen in love with the one person in the world she shouldn’t have--

“I know you got somethin’ else to say, so spit it out. C’mon.” 

She should leave. She should leave, wake Vanessa up, call red, and disappear. That’s it, that’s all, she should just go away--

“It’s not that I want your blessing. It’s not. I just… I want your advice. On what to do next. I don’t want to take advantage of her, A’Keria. So I want to know what you would do.”

A’keria sighs, mutters something like _trade’s all the same_ under her breath _,_ but before Brooke can protest, A’keria’s face smooths out. “Okay, girl, you asked for it. But I need you to listen, no fightin’.”

Brooke nods. “No fighting. I promise.”

_Vanessa is dressed like a schoolteacher when she answers the door to the classroom, Brooke wrapped in a school uniform. It’s strange, being in the pleated skirt and sailor top, a knot and bow hanging from the cape-like fabric adorning her top._

_“It’s usually the really cutesy subs who pick that one.” Vanessa had smiled, her eyes twinkling with endearment when Brooke picked the costume up from the table to try it on during their consultation. Really, Brooke had just chosen it because the plain white-collared shirt and tie of the other option was too reminiscent of the old one she’d donated long ago, its boys’ academy insignia and the gray pants that accompanied it in the place of a plaid skirt incredibly constricting and ill-fitting even back when she was fourteen._

_Still, there was something about Vanessa calling her cutesy that made her heart beat a little faster as she walked to the bathroom to change._

_They had decided to do the scene right after the consultation, partially because Brooke had a meeting to go to this week and wouldn’t have time for their usual session, partially because Brooke didn’t want time to overthink what they were just about to try._

_“This is kinda like a rebirth for you, huh?” Vanessa had grabbed Brooke’s hand, squeezing gently. “I just wanna say, I’m honoured to be a part of this. I’m glad you feel safe with me, an’ I’m gonna do everythin’ I can to make it a good experience for you.”_

_The sex is gentle this time. Not necessarily less cathartic--Vanessa still bends Brooke over the teacher’s desk, still gasps when she finds Brooke isn’t wearing panties, still tells her she’ll need punishment for violating the dress code. But there’s still something different. When Vanessa praises Brooke for taking the punishment like a good girl, it feels genuine. When she tells Brooke she wants to teach her a special lesson, that she deserves it, it’s almost loving. Healing, really; Brooke isn’t the fag any more, she isn’t the tranny or the cross-dresser or the freak or weirdo. She’s Vanessa’s favourite pupil, a good girl, a girl Vanessa is proud of. A girl who belongs, who’s popular. Who’s naughty for what she’s not wearing, instead of what she is._

_And when Vanessa says it, strokes her soft and slow and smoothes out her skirt when they’re done, Brooke can’t help but hold every word of praise a little closer to her heart than usual. Maybe it’s how Vanessa checks in with her after, smiles kindly and asks if she’s alright, if that was everything she’d hoped, but Brooke believes her, believes that Vanessa actually cares._

_That maybe, just maybe, Vanessa’s heart is pounding as fast and hard as Brooke’s is in that moment._

_She puts the thought out of her mind the moment she allows herself to think it; she’s probably just imagining it. Just projecting, that’s all._

_Still, the next time Brooke sees Vanessa, they work a little more in sync with each other, like something’s clicked and they’ve finally learned how to read each other fluently._

_It’s an extra feeling of security that Brooke can’t help but love._

To Brooke’s surprise, the first thing A’keria does is sigh. Not at Brooke, but rather, generally, almost sadly. Like she’s sighing at herself, or at the situation.

“Look, if I tell you this, you can’t tell Vanessa, okay? I’m only tellin’ you ‘cause I’m intuitive, and I can tell you ain’t got a bad bone in your body. You alright, Miss Brooke. So don’t prove me wrong, ‘cause if you do, rest assured, it won’t just be me beating your ass. All us girls at the dungeon are tight.” 

Brooke nods. A million scenarios flash through her mind in that moment, a million different secrets that A’keria could possibly spill. Maybe Vanessa hated Brooke, was always disgusted by her and her kinks. Maybe she only agreed to come so she could network and exploit Brooke, or worse, get dirt for gossip material with her coworkers. Maybe she was some kind of convict on the run, and was using Brooke to provide a getaway avenue. _Maybe she was using her newfound closeness even this second to steal Brooke’s information and wipe her bank accounts--_

“She loves you, too. More than she can express sometimes. And that’s why you have to leave.”

Somehow, A’keria’s words speared Brooke’s heart more sharply than any other fantasy she ever could have thought of.

 _The first time Brooke hears Vanessa laugh--like_ really _laugh, as opposed to the mean, put-on cackles of a dom in the middle of degradation--is when Brooke is tied up against a chair, legs held apart by a spreader bar. Vanessa picks up a vibrating wand to place between Brooke’s legs, rearing up for a big finale to their session together, the minutes left in their hour together ticking by far too fast. She’s just turning back towards Brooke when the heel of her boot catches on the mat, and she stumbles, catching herself at the last minute before she can fall._

_“Oh, fuck. Damn.” Vanessa whispers under her breath, then her lip begins to twitch. Before Brooke can fully process what just happened, Vanessa’s mouth cracks into a dimpled smile, and she’s laughing, loud and breathless and just as harsh, but somehow much more melodious._

_Real. Vanessa’s laughing for real. And Brooke can’t help but laugh a little, too._

_She half expects to be punished for her insolence when Vanessa looks up at her and notices that she’s giggling under her breath. Instead, Vanessa just shakes her head._

_“Sorry, Mary. I shouldn’t come outta character like this.” she gasps, “Stop laughing at me! C’mon, makin’ me look like a fool.” The complaint comes out less like a command and more like a whine, as if Brooke is a friend teasing Vanessa for her mistake. “Okay, okay, look, you’re almost outta time anyway, we gotta focus.” she coughs, regaining her composure, and so does Brooke, just in time to watch Vanessa slip back into domspace. Still, Brooke’s mind doesn’t turn off for the rest of the session._

_It’s weird--Brooke has seen Vanessa in and out of dominatrix scenarios, but this is the first time that she’s actually heard any glimpse of a sense of humour. It makes her seem strangely… Human. Like any other girl, anyone else Brooke might see on the street. And even though right now, Vanessa is decked out in leather and edging Brooke with a vibrator so powerful she thinks she might explode, she’s still giggling, and Brooke is still smiling a little, and the air is light, almost casual._

_“Sorry again about that.” Vanessa smiles apologetically when she finally helps Brooke up and out of the room at the end of their session. “I don’t usually fall out of character.”_

_“Not at all!” Brooke waves away the concern with another laugh, one that is reciprocated with a sigh of relief._

_It almost hurts to know that Vanessa thought Brooke might be mad._

_“Hey. If anything, just makes the whole thing more real, right?” It’s a risky statement for Brooke to make, one that she’s not totally sure Vanessa will receive well, but when Vanessa nods and smiles thankfully, Brooke relaxes, knowing the consolation has had the intended effect._

_“Right. See you next week?”_

_“See you next week.”_

_Vanessa’s laugh continues to ring in Brooke’s ears all the way home._

“First of all, you don’t love her.” A’keria states plainly, almost like she’s bored. The accusation hits Brooke hard in the chest, and she feels a strong flash of indignance at the words. Of _course_ she loves Vanessa, does A’keria seriously think she’d be here sticking her neck out if she wasn’t? Before she can voice the objection though, A’keria rolls her eyes and holds up a halting hand.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that, Miss Brooke. You’d said you’d listen. I was gonna say, you love Vanessa, but you don’t. You love the _idea_ of Vanessa. ‘Cause you ain’t even know who she is, not really.”

“Yes, I do.” Brooke feels her hands ball into fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms and making her skin buzz with pain and resistance. She shouldn’t be this defensive, she knows, but she can’t help it. She’s not some dime-a-dozen pervert who’s fallen for the whip Vanessa wields; she’s a _person_ , one who sees Vanessa as a person. She loves Vanessa for her kindness, for her calm, for the perspective she brings and the way she balances out Brooke’s anxieties. She loves Vanessa for her sense of humour and love of diamond earrings, and for how she always tells Brooke to eat watermelon at breakfast after she realized on the first day that it’s Brooke’s favourite fruit. How she started eating watermelon too, almost like she wanted something to share in common. She loves Vanessa for her preference for black even out of domspace, for the way her hair looks in a ponytail. She loves Vanessa’s long lashes and calm face when she sleeps, and how she’s so small that if she ever were to sleep next to Brooke, Brooke could scoop her up easily, hold her, keep her safe…

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” A’keria interrupts Brooke’s rant, her face unchanged, “But it ain’t love. Look. I ain’t denying that those are all things Vanessa possesses, but half of those had to do with _you_ and what she does for you. And anyway, love ain’t just about the good things in a person. It’s about the small things and the bad things, and about the boring things, too.

“Let me ask you somethin’, Brooke. What’s Vanessa’s favourite food?”

“Well…”

“What’s Vanessa actually like when she gets angry?”

“I’m sure it’s not that different from--”

“What about when she’s sad? Do you know what makes her cry the most?”

“Okay, that I don’t, but--”

“D’you know her favourite movie? TV show? Song? Book? How about her family, you met her family yet? You know how she lives, whether she’s a messy slob or a type-A bitch? You even know her birthday or her sign?”

“I could learn those things.” Brooke says quietly. A’keria’s face softens, and Brooke lets her take her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze across the table.

“You could,” A’keria says, “But you ain’t.”

_Ever since her company took off, Brooke has been no stranger to luxury. As much as she tries to stay humble and true to her roots, she doesn’t see the harm in indulging in nice champagne or bubble baths, in a fancy lobster dinner out with friends or a silky new dress every once in a while. They’re rewards, and comforts, and regardless, she works hard enough that she deserves it, for Pete’s sake. Still, there’s one childhood luxury--if it could even be called that--that she just can’t let go of, one that she just can’t help but seek out every once in a while. Maybe on a hard day, maybe on a good one. Maybe on a day that isn’t anything at all, just when she’s craving a taste of home._

_Sour jawbreakers, the big kind that kids used to choke on, from the dusty old gumball machine in the cramped bodega on the corner of Fifth and Maple. The kind that her mom used to give her a quarter for each month, a little pleasure that would last her until the ball of candy became sticky and hairy and her mother insisted on throwing it out. The kind that she’d buy as a teenager after smoking a cigarette, the sour juices somehow the best taste to offset the sharp, musty taste of tobacco in her mouth. The kind that kept her mouth busy every time she tried to quit and nicotine patches just weren’t enough._

_She doesn’t really belong in the bodega anymore. She can tell by how patrons look at her, how people move aside when she brings anything she’s buying to the counter. How she’s lost taste for most of the things the aisles store. But the gumball machine is always full, and so some part of the place remembers her, and that’s enough._

_It’s her third attempt to quit smoking when it happens. Just like any other attempt, any other time a craving strikes, Brooke gets in her car and drives to the opposite end of town, parking along 5th and walking the half-block to maple. She walks through the bodega’s glass doors, and she’s about to swing through the second set in the interior entrance when she sees her._

_Vanessa._

_Vanessa is standing at the back of the store minding her own business, a basket full of ramen noodles, cookies, shrimp crackers, and heavy-flow pads slung on her arm, her hand out in front of the dusty old gumball machine, ready to catch her prize._

_Brooke runs from the store before Vanessa has a chance to turn around. She starts ordering her jawbreakers from a retro candy site she finds online, even though the bodega always sticks in her mind._

_Even months later, she wonders if it still remembers her, too._

“It’d be a disaster if I tried to love her, wouldn’t it?” Brooke phrases it like a question, but she already knows the answer, and from the sad, silent nod A’keria gives her, she can tell that A’keria can read right through her.

It’s too complicated. Vanessa may be her own person, but she’s also Brooke’s employee, one in an occupation that leaves her extremely vulnerable. If Brooke tries to get close to her, it would be a boundary-crossing, and even if she stops seeing her professionally, the wall would still be there. They know too much, and yet still too little, about each other. And even if Vanessa does love her back, Brooke knows that Vanessa could never love her the way she wants to when Brooke likely has a completely different image of what love means. Especially when those meanings are clouded with money. 

It wouldn’t work. It _couldn’t_ work.

But now that A’keria’s put the information out there, there’s no going back from it.  
Vanessa loves Brooke. And for her sake, Brooke absolutely cannot love Vanessa back.

“If you love her, let her go, right?” 

“Yeah.” Brooke nods, and then a hot tear falls off of her cheek and onto the table, and fuck, she’s crying, she’s in front of the woman who’s supposed to protect Vanessa asking for pity and _crying_. Jesus Christ. 

“If you red out ‘n leave, it’d be okay.” A’keria says softly, getting up from the table and returning a moment later with a box of tissues. 

“Yeah.” Brooke takes one gratefully, wiping the tears from her face. “Okay.”

A’keria hugs her tightly, genuinely, like in that moment, Brooke has gone from a client to a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRIT!!! ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND NO RESOLUTION IN SIGHT????
> 
> Be patient, folks. It's gonna hurt like a bitch before it gets better, but it will get a lot better, I promise :P 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!! ^_^


	9. Don't Take Me Home Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER: Brooke discusses her feelings for Vanessa with A'keria, who tells it like it is and advises Brooke to break it off before somebody gets hurt
> 
> THIS CHAPTER: Perhaps best summarized in this review by my good friend Holtzmanns: "writ I will stomp u to death with my hooves"
> 
> Don't hate me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. It's here. This part of the series is done, completed. Thank God there's a third part, honestly--I've grown so attached to this universe and the versions of B & V in them, I'd be devastated to have to say goodbye to them just yet. I'm absolutely thrilled by the response this fic has gotten, and so grateful that you've all gone on this journey with me. 
> 
> This chapter kind of felt like giving birth, but it was worth it for me, and I hope it will be for y'all, too.
> 
> Thank you Holtz for beta-ing and providing commentary that made me laugh while u cried <3
> 
> Title of the chapter is from Oh No Oh Yes by Mariya Takeuchi

“Brooke?”

Brooke freezes, her breath catching in her throat. Her closing the door behind herself must have woken Vanessa up, because the younger woman is sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

Fuck.

“I’m just--I… I was just going to the bathroom.” Brooke lies, hoping that Vanessa is still too groggy to catch her in the act. Luckily, Vanessa nods and lays back down, her breath slowing down and body stilling. 

Thank God. 

Brooke lets out a relieved exhale and creeps towards her own bed, pausing before sliding in.

She should leave. She should just go, right now. Wake Vanessa up, tell her she can’t do this anymore, pack up and run before Vanessa can ask why. Get out of Vanessa’s life, before she winds up doing it damage. 

But it’s almost three AM, and she’s already woken Vanessa up once, and--

Who is she kidding? She bites her lip, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath. It’s not about Vanessa; if it really were, she would have bitten the bullet and just  _ gone _ already. No, it’s about Brooke herself, about her own selfishness. It’s about wanting to stay next to Vanessa, wanting to hear her sigh and stir in her sleep. Wanting just a few more moments next to her, even if next to her is five feet apart in a separate bed. Wanting to be able to call Vanessa hers for just a little while longer. 

She doesn’t sleep--she can’t. So she lays awake, trying to will herself to get up and get going, instead only thinking about the words she’ll use to say goodbye. 

_ Whenever Brooke has time to come home before her sessions with Vanessa, she takes it. It can be a bit of a rush, but the routine is worth it. She starts off with a shower--products all scent-free, just in case Vanessa might have allergies, but made with milks and creams and extracts that Brooke makes sure leaves her hair strong for grabbing and pulling, her skin clean and soft for stroking and hitting. She brushes her teeth, too--not because they’ll be kissing, they’ll never do that, but because she doesn’t want Vanessa to have to smell anything unpleasant when they’re up-close and personal.  _

_ Then there’s makeup. It’s something that takes up the majority of Brooke’s routine, because she always overthinks it. She doesn’t want to look like she’s going to a business meeting or date, but then again, wants to look like she’s putting in effort, like she respects Vanessa’s time, authority, and presence. The end result is always the same--no colour on the eyes, something subtle for the lip, just a small dusting of blush on her cheeks. _

_ And then there’s clothing. She usually goes with her typical uniform of business clothes, but always a skirt if she can, always something she can move in. Something she wouldn’t mind wrinkling a little.  After all, she doesn’t want Vanessa to have to worry, or to go through unnecessary steps just to undress her or make sure her clothes don’t get wrecked.  _

_ She drives to Vanessa’s with her heart so full of excitement it practically skips, mind racing with all the ideas of how she’ll please Vanessa in the next hour.  _

It’s around 5 AM when Brooke finally works up the courage to slip out of bed and start packing. She works quietly, quickly, holding her breath for fear that it might disturb the sleeping woman next to her. Thankfully, though, as much as Vanessa tosses and turns, she never wakes.

Nonetheless, Brooke resists her curiosity about what’s causing Vanessa’s fitful sleep, working even harder to keep herself from kissing the frown off the younger woman’s face. She can’t do that to Vanessa, not now. Not after she’s made up her mind to do something like this.

It’s only when she’s fully packed that she hesitates, the sudden reality of what will happen next hitting her squarely in the chest. Not for herself, not really; she knows those details. She’s going to call an Uber and go to the airport, rent a room in one of the airport motels, and wait for the next flight home. 

It’s Vanessa she’s worried about. Vanessa waking up, seeing the empty bed, knocking on the bathroom door and realizing that Brooke isn’t there, she’s not with A’keria, she’s disappeared. Vanessa standing alone in her pajamas, chewing her lip and thinking, worrying, wondering what happened. Would Vanessa think she’d hurt Brooke? Would she go over to A’keria for answers, and would A’keria give them to her? 

Would she cry?

Would she blame herself?

Brooke can’t stand the thought, so she freezes, running over her options to keep visions of Vanessa in turmoil out of her mind. She could wake Vanessa up, like she probably should have this whole time, and explain herself. But what would she even say?  _ I’m sorry, I love you, but I’m bad for you, so I’m abandoning you. Don’t worry, I know how to do this, I’ve done it before. It’s okay. Don’t contact me again, it’ll hurt us both.  _ And what if Vanessa talked back, told Brooke something she didn’t want to hear, confirmed the very thing Brooke was trying to avoid? 

She could always stay. Swallow her feelings, keep things normal, keep them exactly the way they are. She wouldn’t have to hurt Vanessa that way, and with Dr Charles’ help, she’s sure she could work through her crush and make it disappear. Maybe even make the need to hire Vanessa at all go away, so that she can bow out sincerely and then never see Vanessa again. But something tells her that would be dishonourable, or at least unprofessional; it would be like stealing pieces of Vanessa, pieces that weren’t Brooke’s to even  _ know _ about, let alone take. 

No. She has to leave, and has to explain herself, but has to do it in a way that can’t be argued with, can’t leave any sting, for Vanessa’s sake. 

That’s when the idea hits her--a note. She can leave a note, write out all of the explanation Vanessa would need without the opportunity for her to argue or admit things that shouldn’t be said, and Brooke could leave without feeling any guilt. Case closed. 

She’s about to get out the complimentary pen and paper left on the bedside table when she trips, slamming her hand down hard on the table’s surface to keep herself from falling and causing Vanessa to jolt up in bed, eyes open and breathing heavy.

“What the fuck?”

_ “And I told her, what are you trying to do, make sure your only career’s gonna be as some street whore?”  _

_ The table erupted in laughter, everyone nodding their head along with the man’s story.  _

_ “If you can even call that a career.” A woman contributed, wiping her eyes.  _

_ “I mean, I knew you were a rascal, Jeff, but I didn’t think you were so bad you were gonna give your daughter  _ that _ many daddy issues!” Another man chimes in, clapping Jeff on the back and beaming as another round of laughter goes around the table. _

_ Brooke shifts uncomfortably in her seat. _

_ She hates investor dinners.  _

_ “Honestly, as a career woman, I don’t get it. It’s just a total lack of respect for yourself. I mean, ladies, come on. Haven’t you heard of feminism? What happened to women fighting to get jobs?” _

_ Brooke should keep her mouth shut. She should keep her mouth shut. She should smile, laugh politely, nod along. Do anything she can to stay on the good side of the investors. They don’t know what they’re talking about, but that doesn’t mean she needs to sacrifice her business and reputation. All she has to do is keep her mouth shut, smile, laugh politely, and nod along.  _

_ Just shut up, smile, and nod along. _

_ “Oh, but Georgina, haven’t you heard? Everyone’s trying to pretend it’s work now!” _

_ “Boy, wouldn’t I like to be a whore and have that kind of easy money.” _

_ “You’d spend a lot of it on STDs--” _

_ That’s it. Brooke has to say something. _

_ “Actually, they’re not whores, they’re sex workers. And it  _ is  _ work. Work they take very seriously. They take care of their health,  _ always _ get tested, and manage their own businesses. There’s a lot of risk management, and emotional labour, and aesthetic labour that goes into it.” Brooke lets it all in one breath, quieting everyone around her, but she’s too far gone to stop. “They’re putting their safety and well-being on the line for clients that want and need them but don’t respect them, and that makes it even harder on them. Tearing them down is the  _ real _ unfeminist thing to do, if you ask me.”  _

_ “Well then maybe we need to go to the source and cut off those johns--” _

_ “Why? So we can take away sex workers’ careers and leave them without an income? To justify policies that make it more difficult for them to work in safe environments? That’s not protecting them, it’s further marginalizing them. And personally, I don’t think any of them deserve that.” _

_ No one says anything more. _

_ Brooke has blown it. She knows she’s blown it. She’s basically just implied that everyone around the table was an asshole, and had violated the first rule of business: never talk politics. She’ll lose half these investors, she knows it.  _

_ Somehow, though, in that moment, she can’t bring herself to care.  _

_ She excuses herself and goes to the bathroom, rage still blazing in her chest. It takes her a good five minutes before she’s able to calm down enough to show her face again, and when she comes back, everything is silent. _

_ Her stock goes down two points the next day, but somehow, she still doesn’t really care. _

_ “I heard about your outburst.” Yvie drops a folder on Brooke’s desk, her face blank for reasons they’re both not saying. Brooke shrugs. _

_ “I couldn’t let them say the things that they said.” For a moment, a whisper of last night’s rage reignites in her chest, her mind already building retorts in case Yvie decides to argue. Thankfully, though, Yvie only nods. _

_ “I know.” _

_ After Yvie leaves the room, Brooke pulls out her phone and texts Vanessa to ask for an emergency session that night.  _

“Vanessa, I--”

“How come you’re packed?” Vanessa’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment, then smooths out again as her eyes go wide and her mouth opens as if to say something. Only no words come out; Vanessa just keeps staring, keeps gawking, keeps looking as though the more she waits to form a sentence, the less she’s able to speak at all.

Brooke feels her breath catch in her throat and her heart sink into her stomach.

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to  _ see _ this, to have to  _ deal _ with this, to have to say the things she’s about to say or explain the things she’s about to explain. She didn’t want her heart to melt or her eyes to water or for the fleeting thought to pass through her mind that she could take it back, she could sit down, she could change her mind.

But it was too late for that. There was no way out now, no matter how badly she wanted to find one. So instead, she just shook her head, steeling herself against everything else she was feeling so that she could bring herself to choke out an explanation, an excuse, an apology,  _ anything. _

“I can’t do this anymore, Vanessa. I need out.”

_ The cupboards at the dungeon are always stocked with green tea in different flavours.  _

_ It’s been a particularly rough session, Brooke’s scalp hurting from her hair having been pulled and her legs wobbly from overstimulation. _

_ “Can you watch her?” Vanessa’s voice is gruff through the cloud of subspace that envelopes Brooke’s mind, making everything go muffled, “I got another client comin’, but I think she’s gonna drop, an’ I know she better not try to drive like this, so I wanna make sure she’s good before she goes.” _

_ There’s a woman somewhere--in front of Brooke? Beside her? Her hands are on Brooke’s shoulders, guiding her to sit--who nods and promises to look after her. She introduces herself, but Brooke barely catches the name, and suddenly, she’s got a mug of tea in her hands. _

_ Jasmine green tea.  _

_ The next time, it’s honey; then hojicha; then lemon. Each time, Vanessa sits her down, slides her tea, and either directs someone to watch her or watches her herself. _

_ So when Vanessa slides her orange pekoe, Brooke notices immediately. _

_ “I’m the one who brings the green.” Vanessa shrugs. “I didn’t stop at the store last night, so we only got the regular shit. Not as good, but…” _

_ Brooke shrugs. “Tea is tea, right? It’s all leaf water.”  _

_ Vanessa says nothing, but Brooke still notices the hurt expression on her face. _

_ Shit.  _

_ When Brooke steps through the dungeon’s front doors the next week, she’s armed with a whole bag full of tea boxes, everything from Lipton to Twinings, from decaf to super-concentrated, from plain to sakura flavour. She even throws in a box of Oolong for good measure--just to give them something new to try. _

_ “You want me to tell Vanessa you brought these?” Silky’s eyebrows raise in surprise when Brooke passes the bag to her, but Brooke only shakes her head. _

_ “No, that’s okay. I just want her to have her favourites, is all.” _

_ For the next two months, whenever it’s been a tough scene, Brooke leaves with the taste of green tea on her tongue, and by the time she finally gets a cup of Oolong passed her way, she can taste the difference between each flavour.  _

The silence shatters even before it has a chance to sink in.

Brooke intends to leave-- _ tries _ to leave, tries to grab her suitcase and rush out of the room. Tries to avoid the explanation she knows Vanessa deserves, but can’t bring herself to start. 

Only then there’s movement, the sound of bedsheets being thrown aside, and Brooke feels her arm pulled back, her wrist caught in the grasp of a desperate, clinging hand.

“Brooke, please.” Brooke shouldn’t turn back to look at Vanessa. She can’t. It’s easier if she doesn’t. “ _ Please. _ ”

She does. 

And then she’s being pulled forward, and Vanessa is on her tip-toes, and Brooke’s heart is beating so hard her whole chest feels like it’s being kicked over and over, and then they’re kissing, they’re  _ kissing _ , and everything is over.

_ Vanessa’s heart isn’t in it today. Brooke can tell by the way she seems distracted, by how she stops to think before she gives a command. By how her florentine flogging technique is a little sloppier than usual. Brooke wants to ask what’s going on, wants to know what Vanessa’s feeling, but she doesn’t ask. _

_ Instead, she forces herself to focus even more. Wiggles her ass along with the movements of the floggers just slightly so that they meet where they’re supposed to every time. Becomes more responsive than usual, fakes a little and makes a few more noises than she usually does. She’s a terrible actress, she knows, but hey. If it gives Vanessa even the tiniest ego boost, then it’s worth it. _

_ By the time the session is over, Vanessa seems sluggish, like something inside her has given up, and Brooke knows her efforts haven’t paid off. It sits with her poorly the rest of the night, doubt and guilt wriggling through her stomach like worms intent on eating her insides.  _

_ If the roles were reversed, if it had been her, she would’ve hated the pity. If it had been her, she would have seen Vanessa’s efforts as an insult, a way of saying that she’s not competent. If it had been her, she would have become mad, not grateful, and would have probably tried several times harder just out of spite, not out of renewed spirit. _

_ If the roles were reversed, if it had been her, she would have fired Vanessa on the spot. _

_ She runs to check her phone, make sure there’s no tell-tale text that says Vanessa has abandoned her, doesn’t want to work with her any more. She wouldn’t blame Vanessa if there were--with every passing second, every passing thought, Brooke finds a new error, a new regret. _

_ There’s no text. _

_ Dr. Charles always tells her to wait for the proof of her fears, instead of seeking reassurance they won’t happen. He says that it’s a symptom of codependency, of people-pleasing, and that it’s a habit she needs to break. _

_ So, as much as Brooke wants to text Vanessa just to make sure she still wants to work with her, she doesn’t. _

_ She shows up at her regular time next week, and everything is okay again. _

Brooke hits the bed hard, Vanessa’s body following on top of her, straddling her and groping her and kissing her, still kissing her, always kissing her. Kissing her mouth, her chin, her jaw, her neck. Brooke kisses back where she can, grabs where she can, moves to keep up with Vanessa’s pace. Her fingers cling to Vanessa’s waist, pulling her closer by her shirt, and then it’s off, and Brooke grabs back on to bare skin, skin she paints red with the force of her grip. 

“I’ve wanted to do this way too long.” Vanessa laughs against Brooke’s skin, and fuck it, it feels  _ good.  _

“Me too.” Brooke reaches down to Vanessa’s underwear and starts to pull it down. Vanessa lets her, straightening up to shimmy out of it before smiling shyly. Brooke would laugh at the sudden bashfulness if she had any breath left; instead, it’s gone, taken away by the sight of Vanessa’s body on display in front of her. 

Vanessa is beyond words, every inch of her perfect, every inch of her something Brooke feels herself wanting to touch and kiss and hold forever--so she does, tracing her fingers along Vanessa’s smooth skin, her heart melting at every shiver Vanessa responds with. Even her goosebumps are beautiful, and it’s all too much for Brooke to handle. 

“I want to take care of you.” Brooke whispers into Vanessa’s ear, grabbing Vanessa by the ass and pushing her forward, pushing their bodies close together. Vanessa nods.

“ _ Please. _ ” The word comes out in barely a whisper, Vanessa’s voice dry and hoarse with desperation. There’s something about that voice, something about the moment they’re in, that makes Brooke soften further, and so she responds by turning them around gently, lifting Vanessa up and laying her back down as if she’s a doll made of porcelain. She kisses her way down Vanessa’s body, so caught up in the moment that she barely registers the meaning her mind implants in every kiss.

_ I love you, I love you, I love you. _

“Vanessa--” Brooke moans, ready to suck one of the shorter woman’s nipples into her mouth, but then Vanessa cuts her off.

“Isabela.” Vanessa smiles down at her tenderly, “My real name is Isabela.”

The  _ I love yous  _ sour on the spot, and suddenly, everything is all too clear, all too real again, the impact of realizing what they’re doing making Brooke’s head spin.

She’s kissing Vanessa. She’s about to _ fuck  _ Vanessa. She’s reeling in a woman she doesn’t even know--couldn’t even  _ name _ , not really. And it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s bad for her, it’s too much too soon. Vanessa shouldn’t trust her,  _ can’t  _ trust her, not when she could ruin her, could coerce her, could  _ break  _ her--no, this is bad, this is bad, it’s too much, too soon, not good--

“I have to go.” She stands up quickly, buttons up everything Vanessa’s taken apart again. Before Vanessa can protest, she grabs her suitcase and makes way for the door.

_ Usually, when Brooke is in subspace, everything fuzzes over, becomes a milky, comfortable haze that she floats in, helpless to do anything but let herself fall further.  _

_ Sometimes, though, everything becomes exposed, hyper-realistic, as if coming at her fast under an incredibly bright light. Her whole senses get filled when she’s like that, everything hitting her at once, so overwhelming that it’s all together in a mish-mash of sound and smell and sight and touch, even though she knows exactly what part is which. A contradiction, a sharp, jerking whiplash that commands her attention. Makes her feel alive. _

_ Vanessa knows automatically when Brooke is in that kind of space, and thank God she does. Everything about her glistens, everything becomes noticeable. How her arms are muscular from cracking whips, her fingers calloused from manipulating rope. How she paints her nails black to hide the acrylic glue still clinging to them--she must take them off before she sees clients who like to be fingered. How she grunts a little every time she pulls Brooke up by the hair. _

_ Brooke goes with her--anything to make Vanessa’s job safer, less worrisome, a little easier.  _

_ Not that she loses anything by having her scalp pulled on a little less, either.  _

_ “You like it rougher, you little pervert? Huh?” Vanessa’s got Brooke up against a wall, her paddle coming down softly in warmup hits that nonetheless reverberate up and down Brooke’s whole body, their thudding impact superimposed on her skin. “You even like it when I hit you! I could spit on you right now and you’d thank me. Just taking everything like the pathetic little worm you are.”  _

_ Is it just Brooke, or is Vanessa’s voice louder than usual? Either way, the comments are suggestions, suggestions Brooke is hungry to explore.  _

_ “Yes, mistress, thank you mistress.”  _

_ Vanessa’s spit is cold against Brooke’s cheek, the thud that follows hard and fast on the flesh of her ass.  _

_ Maybe it’s just the space she’s in, but somehow, her heartbeat picks up a little, and there’s not a fibre of her being that doesn’t want it to happen again. _

If this were any other reality--a movie or book, maybe--Vanessa would follow Brooke to the airport. But it’s not, and she doesn’t, and somehow, even though it should be nothing but relieving, it stings. 

Brooke arranges her flight while she’s in the Uber on her way to the airport. She’s got five hours before she boards--one to get through security, and four to sit and think.

She pops her Xanax before the car even pulls up to the terminal doors. By the time she’s through security, its effects have set in, and her anxiety has faded, her eyelids just a little heavy. Good; this way, she won’t be able to think, or at least, when she does, the thoughts won’t make her stomach churn.

She puts on a pair of panties in the bathroom before she checks in, and watches some kind of action movie while she sits at the gate--she’s not really sure, she’s not really paying attention, but at least it’s not a romance. 

There’s two hours left before her flight when her phone buzzes against her thigh. 

**Ms V: Brooke, please.**

**Ms V: I love you**

She stares at it, and her mind goes blank.

She could ignore it. She could delete it, erase Vanessa’s number, block her if she tries again (she won’t try again, Brooke knows Vanessa too well to believe that). Instead, she takes a deep breath and lets everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours pour out into her response.

**B: what’s my favourite colour**

**B: what makes me sad and what makes me cheer up**

**B: what’s my mom’s name**

**B: am I a slob, or pristine?**

That should do it; that should convince Vanessa that they’re not a match.

But then her phone buzzes again and again.

**Ms V: your favourite colour is black. I know cause you could afford louboutins but you don’t wear em bc you like black soles better, and your jewelry always has black accents**

**Ms V: you get sad when you’re lonely. Every client does. That’s why you see me**

**Ms V: your moms name is Joan. We do extensive background checks on every client before we accept em.**

**Ms V: and there’s nothing in the world that could convince me your home is as pristine as your image, miss Brooke. You a slob at home, I can tell.**

Well, fuck. Despite herself, Brooke laughs, even as hot tears start to fall directly onto the screen underneath her. She’s made an ass of herself, she knows it, and worked herself into a corner, but there’s no going back now. Not if she wants to do what’s best for Vanessa.

And she’s  _ got _ to do what’s best for Vanessa, no matter how badly she wants to give in.

**Ms V: just come back, Brooke. Please.**

She takes a deep breath, really considers her next move. Considers how to explain her actions to Vanessa, how to list all the reasons whatever Vanessa wants--whatever  _ Brooke _ wants--couldn’t work.

Instead, she sets her phone to do not disturb, deletes Vanessa’s number, and sends back one last text before putting her phone away.

**B: I’m sorry.**

By the time they board, Vanessa still hasn’t texted back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be mad at me! The third installment of the series, Come Hell Or Full Circle, will be here soon!! And be multichaptered with a happy ending, I promise :P


End file.
